Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix
by Rebecca Pierce
Summary: I would kill for you, make the sun go up for you, but I don't think you understand that what I'm trying to say is simply that I belong to you.
1. I

**A/N**: A new story, because well. . . just because. Lol.

**Disclaimer**: I'm a poor university student. Do you really think Tite Kubo would randomly choose me to take over? No?

I was hoping you'd say yes.

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)_

* * *

**I**

* * *

There were things in the world Toushiro Hitsugaya had come to understand as simple, repetitive, maybe even a little bit dull.

Though young by shinigami standards, his life had been one of routine, of careful planning and a meticulous attention to detail—to strive for the very top of what he could reach (and what he couldn't—being short made him all that more determined).

That was how he ended up with his own office, with a faithful (though rather rambunctious) lieutenant, with subordinates who looked up to him for everything that they deemed clearly unattainable—or maybe, in the more gutsy ones, the goal.

Day in and day out, as the dust of Aizen' betrayal and the Zanpaktou rebellion settled and their world took a turn for the better, it almost felt as if things got . . . boring. There was nothing—not the pain of realizing Hinamori wouldn't ever be the same, not the anger of losing over half his squad, not even the feeling of hunger in his stomach.

It was on one of those nights—dreadfully long, full of (pointless) paperwork, the ticking of the clock eternal—that something began to feel. . . different?

* * *

The doors burst open as thunder crashed above, rumbling and rattling his bones. Matsumoto was laughing, shoving a smaller figure ahead of her into the room.

"Ne, Rukia! You think Renji found the sakura blossom we planted in his hair yet?" A fit of giggles and she clumsily leaned against the door frame, her petite companion trying to steady and pull his drunken vice-captain into the room.

"H-Hitsugaya Taichou! "-A flimsy bow and she quickly dove to save Matsumoto from meeting the ground-"I apologize for the disturbance but if you would be so kind-"

Sighing heavily, he didn't even look up, but instead pointed to the doorway leading to the barracks. "Second doorway to your right." It wasn't until he heard them shuffling into his subordinate's quarters that he noticed the huge puddles of water on the floor—which he would end up cleaning, he was sure.

A joy, his lieutenant was.

Scowling, the frustrated captain continued his work, not even noticing when Rukia had come out of the room. In fact he had forgotten she was there until he jumped at the crackle of ice forming on the floor beside his desk, quickly solidifying the trail of water that had been left behind by the two soaked women. When he looked up she was standing there, cheeks flushed and gaze lowered so as not to look at him.

"Hitsugaya-taichou sir, would you happen to keep a broom I could use for a moment?" More confused than anything, he simply pointed to the small utilities closet (also known as Matsumoto's secret stash compartment).

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he took a moment to stretch his back before once again going back to the paperwork. The rhythm and monotony of his work began to settle in until he felt more than heard the distinct crack of ice shattering. Looking up, he watched as Rukia flipped the broom upside down and methodically broke apart the ice into tiny shards (like his concentration), sweeping them towards the open office door as she went.

"I would've never thought of that."

She froze, turning slowly to look at him.

Frankly, it had slipped before he could even filter it. Her violet gaze met his then and they both flushed in embarrassment. Clearing his throat, Toshiro's aquamarine orbs slipped back down to his work, waving a dismissive hand at her. "Please, continue."

So she did.

Still, the scribbling frenzy of his brush was not enough to anchor the whole of his attention to what needed to be done. Instead he found himself staring at her turned back (twice) caught by the curiosity of her movements, of the deep concentration and precision in the way she handled the spell—but most of all, by the _subtle difference_ she brought to the room.

It was. . . strange; something he couldn't quite put his finger on—had certainly never noted whenever he had happened upon her among the others.

"You must be very good at kidou if I didn't even hear you utter a spell."

The second time; somehow in her silence he found the need to be responsible to fill the room with something—a chance perhaps, to speak after the habitual stillness had been drilled into his skull by the ever present reminders of noise past the shoji doors.

The rain picked up as if to mock him.

Breaking the last of the ice, Rukia turned to him. "Though my abilities are decent, this was no doing of kidou, Hitsugaya-taichou."

_I feel her. _

Hyourinmaru's sudden interference tore his attention from her in surprise. This wasn't custom, wasn't the usual still of the office or the sleeping quiet of the zanpaktou within him. The dragon never spoke unless prodded; either that or he saw the need to express something that hadn't been brought to light that may be essential.

"Her name is Sode no Shirayuki." The black haired young woman said, smiling as she proudly let one hand fall on the hilt of her sword.

_The first zanpaktou to fall by an outsider's hand--her brother's._

Something told him that Byakuya had conveniently forgotten to tell his sister about it—her zanpaktou as well it seemed.

"I was afraid I would lose her after . . . the rebellion." There was a flicker in her gaze, a deep sadness that flitted away like a trick of the light. "But things are behind us now. I'm just glad everyone was returned safely with their partners."

Indeed, it had been anything but simple.

The sound of the closet door sliding closed broke Hitsugaya's train of thought. It wasn't until he blinked again and noted her idle gaze that he realized that his attention had even wandered.

He must be more tired than he thought—but habit dictated he stubbornly stay until he could lighten the load he was sure was to be here awaiting his punctual arrival tomorrow.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose between index and thumb and finally turned to her again. Following the quick glance she had snuck past him, the young captain knew where it was leading to.

"Would you like . . . some help with the paperwork?" Usually he would've said no. But then he heard the rain outside, and saw how wet her clothes and hair were (she must've tried to dry some of it off in Matsumoto's room he guessed), and figured giving her an excuse to stay wouldn't be so bad. She had, after all, brought back Matsumoto safely and even cleaned up every drop of mess they had made on the way in—something neither Renji nor Shuuhei bothered to do on such trips (because they weren't in a much better state than their ward).

Not to mention she was a welcome distraction from the ticking of the clock.

Nodding, he pointed her to the couch and then told her to wait as he headed towards his quarters. Her eyes were questioning as he did, but she didn't move. It wasn't until he came back that she realized why he had left in the first place.

"I figured Matsumoto's would be way too big for you, so here." He handed her a neatly folded pile of his clothing. "The first door on your left should be fine for you to change in."

"N-no, Hitsugaya-Taichou, I can't accept this. I'll be fine in my own clothes, thank you."

"Are you questioning my orders?" The look of horror on her face made him smug. It wasn't every day that it worked. Usually with Matsumoto it fell on deaf ears, so it was not beyond him to relish the rare opportunity—plus her reaction was very amusing, a break from the ordinary.

"Of course not, sir!" She shot up like a bullet, clothes in hand. "I apologize, I'll go change now."

Crossing his arms, he watched her scurry into his room and slide the door shut. Frowning in thought, he headed back for his desk.

When she came back out her face was red and his extra shinigami uniform clung onto her form. Silently he marveled at the fact that there was actually someone smaller than him(sans chest of course—for a moment he had to turn and try not to blush at realizing that a _female_ was wearing his clothing). Shoving the feeling back, he pointed to a stack he had prepared for her while she had been gone.

"You don't have to do it all. If you can just put a dent in that, you'll make my night that much easier."

(That much less of a routine.)

His teal orbs went from the stack to her face, scrutinizing and wondering if she was going to back out on him. There was no hint whatsoever to that though, her deep violet eyes instead meeting his as she nodded.

"Yes sir."

So they worked like that, Rukia periodically asking questions pertaining to their squad's workings for reports, and Toushiro giving precise replies. An hour and a half passed, the clock striking twenty till one in the morning as the storm raged on outside. Once, he caught her wide eyes staring at the sliding door leading outside, watching in fascination as lightning lit up the skies, and thus the door itself. She didn't seem to realize she was being watched as a tiny smile formed on her face before she ducked her head back into the work before her.

Their stacks grew considerably smaller until finally she finished.

She gingerly set her work down on the corner of his desk before momentarily excusing herself. When she finally came back it was with a tray in her hands, a teacup and kettle upon it.

"I apologize for not having thought of this before, sir. I just hope you don't mind me using Matsumoto's set."  
Looking from the steaming cup to her in surprise, he shrugged. "It's not like she uses it anyways."

Rukia watched silently as he took the first sip of the tea, slender fingers wringing the edges of the tray in her hand. She nearly heaved a sigh of relief when he seemed to nod his approval, features subtly relaxing with the taste in his mouth.

Jasmine, she noted, that's what he seemed to like—which was good because it was the only thing in Matsumoto's cabinet.

She nearly jumped when he began speaking to her. "The storm doesn't look like it's going to give out anytime soon."

"No, it doesn't." Rukia replied, her eyes straying to the doorway as more lightning lit up the door. "It's nothing major though." Smiling, she set the tray down and arranged the kettle on it, setting the two on Matsumoto's now-clean desk.

"I should be leaving. I apologize for staying so late, and I hope my being here helped in some way." Bowing, she grabbed her wet uniform from the couch. "I'll be sure to return your uniform first thing in the morning, sir."

"There's no need, it's just a spare. Bring it back at your convenience." Bowing again, she uttered a goodbye, sliding the door open before he could give it a second thought.

Comical almost, out of the ordinary, and bizarre—Toushiro didn't know whether to describe her or his night like that. Silently, grim features seemed to scrunch into those of curiosity as he stared at the shoji doors from his seat, trying his hardest to understand why it felt as if any effort to understand what had just happened would be futile.

So he didn't try.

Instead, Toushiro Hitsugaya chose what he could never doubt in, what drove him to the heights of ultimate discipline, and (lack of) patience—he returned back to work.

Before he realized it, the white haired young man had emptied the kettle of its contents and the stacks of paper that had once seemed daunting now were all perfectly confined in folders and the like. And when he walked into his chambers for the night, he couldn't help but hesitate as his nose picked up the slightest scent of lavender.

It was . . . odd.

Between the sounds of the rain and the lingering feeling of Rukia Kuchiki's reiatsu, he changed into his night clothing and made his way to bed, teal eyes closing almost as soon as the back of his head hit the pillow.

For the first time in a few months, the captain of the tenth division slept soundly.


	2. II

**A/N**: Yes, short time between chapters, but the bad part is you have to put up with the fact that it's short. BWAHAHAHAHA!!! Lol. Jokes aside, thank you kindly to all of you who reviewed the first chapter, it warms my heart greatly to see people like it ^-^ Thank you, thank you, thank you, your words all help make it that much easier to put fingers to the keyboard ;D

**Disclaimer**: This is a mockery of my inability to harass Tite Kubo into letting me be his apprentice! D8

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)_

* * *

**II**

* * *

For a while afterwards, he didn't see the small shinigami again (the young genius still secretly savored the fact she was smaller than him), and she barely came to mention even by his vice captain--mostly from lack of memory of that specific night.

Nonetheless, about two weeks or so later found them pretty much in the same position, except this time she greeted him hastily (as last time), dragged Matsumoto past him after shyly asking permission, and immediately broke out the tea.

This time there was no rain.

And once again, the stacks were high.

That didn't stop her from offering her help, which he accepted readily, seeing as his other seated officers were out on missions and thus no one could be yanked as victim to the loads but him.

"You can serve yourself as well if you would like." Toushiro said as Rukia set the tea down in front of him.

"Thank you sir, I appreciate the gesture but I'm fine." Raising an eyebrow, the captain turned his full attention on her, which made her stiffen.

Looking at him this way, Rukia marveled at how his lack in the height department didn't alter his intimidation techniques at all—maybe if she tweaked them a bit, they might work on Ichigo . . .

"Would you prefer something else?" Slowly, he watched as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Thinking back, he didn't believe anyone had stocked the kitchenette lately . . . He wouldn't doubt it.

"I usually prefer just milk."

Silence filled the night air as he contemplated this.

Sighing, the white-haired captain turned back to his work. "I apologize for not being able to accommodate you, but tea is all we have at the moment."

"It's no problem whatsoever sir. I don't need anything at all." Her eyes glittered with something different -insult- he noted with surprise, but said nothing as the shyness fell off her proud shoulders like snow and she bowed. "It is my duty to help, not hinder you further, Hitsugaya-taichou."

He observed silently how Rukia avoided his gaze when she stood straight, her eyes instead falling to the desk. "Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do."

Her fingers curled around the stack he set in front of her, the swish of her robes and the light breeze outside their only companions.

For the rest of the night, she didn't talk.

When the clock nearly struck two and she had finally set down her work before him, Rukia bowed and silently headed out.

He didn't know why, but it irked him beyond belief at how she had avoided his eyes. Hyourinmaru, snapping to the rescue, quipped that this was what guilt felt like, and that women usually had that effect so that he better get used to it. Of course that comment went ignored as he finished his work (a little more sloppily than before) and he headed off to his room, where once again he felt her fading presence stopping him at his door.

She had used his tea set this time.

Scowling, he forced himself to enter, finding his extra uniform perfectly folded on the foot of his bed with a note pinned to it.

_Hitsugaya-taichou,_

_Thank you for your generosity and I hope my work in your company is to your standards. _

_-Rukia Kuchiki of the 13th Division_

Swearing under his breath, he made a mental note to put milk in the refrigerator of his quarters before the end of the week.


	3. III

**A/N**: I'm always about a chapter and a half ahead of you, so for those of you who didn't like that it was short (sorry!) I meant tohave it that way. XD Slowly, I'm trying to make myself make them longer, but please be patient with me. I'm so used to one-shots that it's kind of difficult. Either way, thank you all for your support.

To all you lovely peoples ;) Enjoy.

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

* * *

_

**III**

* * *

The next morning when Rangiku sat up from the couch, it was to catch her captain coming in with a gallon of milk in his hand, muttering something about "complicated" and "too many kinds". Raising an eyebrow, she followed her grumbling captain to his quarters where she leaned in the doorway, flicking a stray lock of strawberry hair away from her face.

The death stare she received didn't faze her in the slightest as she raised a brow in question.

"Hitsugaya-taichou, aren't I supposed to be the one with the hangover?" He shoved past her on his way out of his chambers, stalking to his desk and sitting down with a heavy sigh.

"You know, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have this headache, Matsumoto." He could feel his vice captain's eyes on him as he closed his own and began massaging his temples.

"It's not my fault you don't ever try to relax." Rangiku said, huffing indignantly as she shuffled over to fall on the couch again. "Who's the milk for? You don't ever just get anything for our kitchen because you never step in there."

It was times like these it bothered him that she had a knack for detail.

"I've had an assistant in paperwork lately."

". . . Oh. Oh! Does that mean-"

"No, Matsumoto, you can't have more time to go out and drink." A low whine was his reply.

"So who is it? Who did you promote to deal with your grumpiness?"

This woman was going to be the end of his patience, he knew it. Of course, glaring at the foot sticking out from the edge of the couch wouldn't help at all either, but somehow it made him feel a little better.

"I didn't promote anyone. Actually she brought you here the last time you got drunk."

There was a moment of silence as Rangiku contemplated, trying to recall through all her hazy post-sake memories. The tip of her index finger tapped at her chin, lower lip jutted out in a slight pout before her eyes widened.

"Oh, you mean Rukia-san?"

"I don't remember her name." A lie. After her note he knew _exactly_ what her name was.

Sighing, he avoided looking at the fresh stack of paperwork waiting for him as he pushed his chair back.

"I'm going out for a walk."

"Yeah, yeah!" Matsumoto encouraged as she sat up, temporarily forgetting about the 'new assistant' at the opportunity of some time off without trouble. "Go take a walk, you're way too tense lately!"

Flopping back down, she waved a goodbye at him and settled in for her daily morning nap without another word.

Rolling his eyes and suppressing the imminent sigh, Hitsugaya pushed his chair back and made sure to grab half the stack that was on his desk before unceremoniously dumping it on Matsumoto's stomach on his way past the couch.

"I want that done before I come back."

"But tai-" Before she could finish her sentence (and come up with an excuse) he dashed out the door, leaving no trace to his presence other than the quickly slamming door and his flinching vice captain.

The rhythm of his stride was soothing, but it was nothing compared to the need to stretch and _move_. So with that thought in mind, he found his feet leading him towards the woods to train and let off some steam.

The roofs began blurring together as the thought of releasing his tension became more and more appealing.

Hyourinmaru would enjoy the exercise too.

But of course, since when had things ever been that easy?

Hearing the distinct tinkling of bells was his first sign that he wasn't alone. Skidding to a halt, he teetered dangerously on the edge of a building before regaining his balance to search for the source of the sound. Surely enough, when he turned to look back the way he had come, there was something soft and black that smacked lightly on his forehead. For a confused moment he stood there stupidly, trying to figure out why half his vision was alternating between going black and normal until he realized that what had blocked his vision was the constant flapping of the tiny hell butterfly's long wings.

A new mission.

Before the message was even fully relayed he waved the butterfly away, destination changing to the first division barracks. With barely any effort, he took to jumping among the trees and roofs of Sereitei in the direction he had come, shunpo propelling his movements fluidly into the clear morning skies.

It took him only a few minutes to reach the main doors, jumping down from the roof opposite the gateway with barely a scrape of rubble under his sandals. It wasn't until he had landed though that he realized he wasn't the only one to arrive.

The petite shinigami seemed in no hurry whatsoever as she stood in front of the building motionlessly. He dared to think that maybe she was even stalling going in, her head turned towards the doors of the barracks and a hand strangely drawn towards her neck as if there were something there.

"Kuchiki?" There was surprise in her violet orbs as she turned, brow slowly furrowing as the questions began to race in her mind and the hand once at the small of a pale neck lowered to her side.

There was nothing there, the captain noted.

"Hitsugaya-taichou. . . .were you summoned by a hell butterfly as well?" He nodded.

"Hmm. . ." There was a somber aura as her gaze turned towards the barracks once more. Sharp teal eyes caught how her hands trembled in their tight grip but he said nothing as he moved past her to enter, the hint of lavender unmistakable on her person. Glancing at the young woman discreetly, it surprised him how delicate features revealed nothing of the feelings her hands betrayed.

"Let's go."

As they walked in silence, Toushiro's thoughts raced in a million different directions.

What could the head of the thirteen divisions want with Rukia Kuchiki and him? What could they possibly do that someone else from soul society couldn't?

Before he could even begin to contemplate the answer, they were standing before the double doors of Yamamoto-Genryusai's main office and he could do nothing but follow the black haired noble woman into the room.

Rukia bowed deeply, offering her greetings with Toushiro shortly following.

"Hitsugaya Toushiro, Kuchiki Rukia," The main captain himself spoke to them, the room empty of any other living presence. It would've been a beautiful room had he put any personal touch to it, but as it stood there was simply his desk, chair, a plant in the corner, and a wide view of Sereitei. Even in such simplicity though, it felt a bit stifling.

The narrowed slits of Yamamoto-Genryusai's eyes were grim as ever, deep lines of a wary life etched into the crinkles of his features. His heavy gaze slowly passed between the two shinigami standing next to each other, stare penetrating as he spoke. "You are to take on a special mission in the human world."

Ah, so that's why they needed her.

"There is a being suspected to be a hollow taking victims in Karakura Town. Your job is to find and destroy it while in the guise of a human." There was silence for a moment as each of the two ran through scenarios in their head until Toushiro realized that there was something off.

"Why in the guise of a human? That would be too much hindrance on a simple mission as this." In as shinigami with the added bonus of invisibility to human eyes, and a quick out once the job was done. Of course, when measures like this were taken, it could only mean one thing-

"If it is a hollow, it's no ordinary one, is it Soutaichou?" Rukia's voice was soft, eyes hardened as she turned to regard the captain gravely.

"No, it is not." Was the simple reply. Shifting heavily, there was nothing but the sound of the head captain's creaking chair as he took a moment to offer his words concisely. "Your target kills at night, disappearing without a trace before the shinigami in the area can locate it."

And this was where Toushiro knew he was needed.

"How do we find it then?" The white haired captain asked. The older man leaned his head down, eyes closed in a way that made them feel disregarded until he chose to speak again.

"Its victims all share the same characteristics." When he looked up once more, the full impact of his gaze was on Rukia. "They were all women of similar features to those you have."

A chill went down her spine as Rukia realized why she was chosen. Sode no Shirayuki's unease rippled through her as she swallowed, defiantly meeting the man's gaze head on and not allowing the nerves to fray her.

"Do you understand what is required of you?"

Clenching her jaw, Rukia Kuchiki bowed deeply. " Yes, Soutaichou."

She understood perfectly well of course.

Because if not, being bait would be that much harder.


	4. Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo

**A/N**: Well, it went from being about four pages to a hefty twelve on Word. That was staggering to me. So much so that I still cannot offer any author notes with long sentences. Lol. If you see any mistakes tell me if you wouldn't mind. I've reread this so many times I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something.

To all you guys asking for longer chapters, thank you. I appreciate your constructive criticism and look forward to your next reviews. :) Seriously, I smile when I see review alerts in my inbox.

Thank you.

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

* * *

_

**Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo  
**

* * *

Needless to say, things got awkward quick as they headed out in silence after getting the briefing. A shift of bodies, the soft swish of robes, and Rukia found herself nodding a polite thank you before stepping out in front of tenth division's captain (and now, her partner on the mission). What she didn't realize though, was that it had been done more out of need for a moment to think rather than for the gesture itself.

She would be staying in the Kurosaki household and he would have to contact the redheaded girl to allow him to stay a few days. Well, at least that's what Toushiro assumed.

This reflection led to the inevitable conclusion that they needed to talk, and thus, he needed to come up with something to say. Because obviously she was still stuck in her own thoughts, if her walking out with barely a regard of his presence was any indication.

"Kuchiki-" Somehow, calling out her name felt intrusive as they stepped out, squinting at the onslaught of sunshine.

The retraction of an outstretched hand—when had he raised it to try and touch her? Fingers curling as it fell to his side, Toushiro waited for the woman in question to turn to him with a subtle tilt to her head, a hand raised to shield a questioning gaze.

"We need to start planning how we're going to go about this." The silence stretched for a moment between them as their eyes met and he suddenly found he couldn't look away as Rukia's features slowly came into focus. "Do you have time?"

Nodding, her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "Yes sir, I have plenty of time."

"Alright then, follow me to the office."

It wasn't really a long trip, but it felt strange knowing that her presence was behind him. There was a moment where the captain forgot he had company until he heard a tiny scrape as one of her sandals caught some dirt on the shingles off one of the many roofs. Running a hand through his hair, the young prodigy didn't notice how curious violet eyes followed his agile movements.

There was power in every step, Rukia realized as she followed closely behind. He _radiated_ it. Every movement was sharp but deliberate—a deep contrast to those of the few males she was in close company with.

Ichigo's were humble, Renji's reckless, her own brother's refined. And somehow, even with all those categories surrounding her, she couldn't really say he was a part of any of those. The captain was a category all his own—what with his infamous intelligence, the sharp tongue, and deep sense of maturity about him.

There was influence in Toushiro Hitsugaya's silence, she finally concluded.

Other than a tiny exhale and the light tap of sandal-clad feet on roof tiles, the black haired young woman remained silent as they hit the final rooftop, feeling a strange shiver go down her spine when she felt her superior's gaze follow her soft land beside him.

"Come."

When they entered his office, it didn't surprise him in the least to find Matsumoto snoring away on the couch. What _did_ catch him off guard though, was the fully finished stack on her desk—and the only reason he knew they were done was because he could tell that they had been organized. There were different little tabs sticking out in random patterns throughout the stack, each announcing the beginning of a separate task.

Going around the couch, he leafed through the pages briefly, then noticing why she had managed to finish her work—well really, why _someone_ had managed to finish the work _for her_. He knew of her persuasion methods and figured some poor male victim had been reeled in without a problem in his absence—surely flirtation was involved, as was her usual method of choice.

Well. . . technically he hadn't told her to do the work herself.

"MATSUMOTO!"

Rukia jumped when he turned and his voice reverberated off of the walls, most surely startling everyone within a ten mile radius. Narrowed aquamarine eyes were blazing dangerously and two balled up fists trembled at his sides as he scowled. If looks could kill, Rukia figured the vice captain of the tenth division would've needed several lives (at least) to survive the look aimed her way.

Nonetheless, the woman in question sprawled on the couch didn't seem to agree (hadn't moved a muscle)—didn't even flinch at the sound of her name.

Throwing the stack in frustration on her desk, Rukia watched silently while trying her hardest not to snicker as he stalked to his own writing table (dragging his vice captain's chair with him), muttering something about incompetence before settling with a huff into his own seat and waving her over to the chair he had placed in front of the desk for her.

"Do you want me to. . ." She pointed a small finger towards the blonde on the couch.

"Don't bother. I'll take care of her personally before I leave." The glint in his eye as he gave a crooked smirk was anything but reassuring.

"Yes sir." The black haired young woman replied, quickly making her way to the offered chair. She didn't speak as he handed her a piece of paper and a brush—didn't seem to notice how his hand wavered just a tiny bit as their fingers brushed.

It was probably because she didn't feel the jolt that had started upon the momentary contact—or her superior's surprise at the feeling.

What. . . was that?

A deep, strangely pensive look overtook sharp features that flickered for a moment, and then he was watching her again, the proximity reminding the captain once again of the strange occurrences of late that were beginning to unsettle him deeply: the jolt just now, his reaction to her eyes. . . the guilt at the accidental insult yesterday. . .

". . . ya-taichou?" A small pale hand waving in his field of view broke abruptly through his train of thought. A heavy sigh and then palms rubbing at tired eyes before those were lowered and the full effort of his frown was aimed at her.

"More tired than I thought I guess. What were you saying?"

"It's alright, sir. I just was asking what your thoughts were on the matter."

"I don't know. Right now we really won't know anything until we actually get out there and get a hold of all the data the Shinigami over there have. There's been glitches in the system of communication lately, so I'm not surprised Yamamoto-Genryusai couldn't give us more."

He liked this. He could do this—this no-nonsense business approach to things. It helped settle his confusion and calm whatever strange things were floating about in his head. Especially now, with a woman who was drawing strange things out of him—a thought that would need consideration later when he had the time.

"We know the attacks have all been in areas with high concentrations of humans. These places are also where there would be a high chance of finding _females_."

_Like yourself_, he wanted to add. But then teal orbs met violet ones over the frantic scribbling of a brush to paper and the captain was quick to note the understanding of his implication in her gaze—she knew what words lingered there.

She wasn't stupid.

"Ideas?"

A churning silence as he took notes and she contemplated. Her eyes were a dark shade of indigo, mouth set into a crooked line and arms crossed over her chest, the brush forgotten on the desk.

"Usually high schools or shopping areas would be the most convenient place to find women . . . but I've also heard clubs are rather popular for girls in the age range."

Hesitation, and then slowly eyes reflecting nothing but full out revulsion raised to note her features with a dark scowl already threatening to take over his lips.

The brush in his grasp had stopped and was bleeding ink onto the paper.

"Clubs?" As in parties, as in loud obnoxious music, as in stuffy atmospheres, and bodies pressed intimately and suffocatingly into a tiny area?

Was that a snarl she heard?

Befuddled and slightly amused by his reaction (at least the part of her that wasn't intimidated by those scary teal eyes that were nearly drilling her into her seat), she quickly tried to backtrack.

"It doesn't mean that's necessarily where we'll find him, sir, but it certainly could be a possibility is all I'm saying." The way she fidgeted made him want to grab her hand and just set it on the table so she would stop. Of course he suppressed the urge, instead finding that he needed tea—or any sort of drink with caffeine or soothing effect would be nice if he was going to get through this without killing someone.

A heavy sigh, and then, "I'll be right back."

Curious violet eyes followed his retreating back until she could see him no more, wondering what it was that had suddenly called his attention but dutifully asking nothing.

Being a Kuchiki was always like that anyways, she thought wryly, what with her brother choosing to end and start conversations whenever he deemed fit and never having to give explanations to anyone below him—including her.

Still, they tended to have their reasons. Thus, Rukia would await the answers patiently (a trait that didn't come easily in her), offering her full support until the end.

But why was she thinking such strange thoughts?

Shaking her head as if that would help to clear the tangled webs forming there, violet eyes trailed around the room in offhand curiosity. Each division had its own subtle signature, and it always caught her attention how everyone, in their own way, added a whisper of themselves to the room. It was something she secretly delighted in, studying things inquisitively when sent on general tasks to the different divisions of Sereitei.

In a way, it felt like seeing little bits of people's hearts.

Matsumoto's desk was messy: papers, pens, brushes, and all sorts of office supplies scattered haphazardly all over the place (and inside as well, she had found out last time while looking for more ink). There were magazines among the stacks in the smaller drawers, and Rukia even did a double take once when she found a set of different shot glasses from several different human cities in Japan lined up in a neat little row in the final of three drawers.

Her taichou's desk was the complete opposite—something that made Rukia smile.

Everything had a place—the pens his vice captain had brought him (small, random souvenirs from areas she had visited), ink bottles, even the sticky notes and paper clips were well organized into their own little nooks and cups. The only personal thing she could find on his desk was a watch tucked into the pen cup.

It stuck out so much that her eyes lingered on it for a while in mild interest.

It had a thick black leather strap that was studded and a large face with silver roman numerals (a term she had recently learned from Ichigo). What was that style that she had heard of from Orihime? Punk? It kind of reminded her of that.

The sound of Matsumoto shifting on the couch startled her enough to the point where she began to feel guilty (and nosy), and so instead chose to sit quietly with her gaze glued to the papers before her.

The quiet was calming in a way, here with a sleeping woman on the couch and the captain in his rooms. And if someone were to walk in now it would be quite the curious scene should they note the deep contemplative looks that were mirrored on two very different faces in two distant rooms—one staring at paper, the other at a kettle of boiling water.

It would also be rather curious—should it be noted-- the oxymoron they created in that moment of calm. How one could observe the way they both dipped their heads, or how she shuffled her feet and sat submissively (as she was taught) and he crossed his arms over his chest in a manner of power.

Sode no Shirayuki and Rukia conversed on small matters, things about general housekeeping before they left, and debates on how long the mission might take them.

In the small kitchen of Hitsugaya's quarters, Hyourinmaru simply listened to his master's thoughts, offering nothing unless prompted or deeming something necessary to add—which usually wasn't much.

It didn't seem like it would be a hard mission. The only thing that really was going to make it interesting was the fact that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Surely there was a trail their target had left behind?

And now that they thought about it, why women like Rukia Kuchiki? What did she have that other women didn't?

Could it have to do with what Hitsugaya felt when their hands touched, or their eyes met?

Whatever deliberation would've started after that was broken by the distinct sound of bubbling. Taking out two cups, Toushiro nearly poured enough for two before he hesitated and the captain could've sworn he heard Hyourinmaru suppress a snicker.

**_"I usually prefer just milk." _**

Sighing, he took out the gallon he had bought that morning and poured some into the second cup before setting both onto a tray. Surely it wouldn't take Matsumoto long to notice that it had been opened (aside from her one chilled sake drink disguised as a human "tea" glass bottle—he wasn't dumb).

When he returned to the office (after emptying out the glass bottle and putting in real tea), it was to find Rukia sitting as he had left her, one hand clenched in her lap and a distant look to her features.

Once again, her other hand went to her neck.

Setting their respective drinks on the desk the young man sat down nonchalantly, promptly snapping the black haired shinigami out of her reverie. Then violet eyes fell to what he had brought and the contents of the cup set before her with surprise.

"This is. . ." Shuffling some things around his work area to organize it a bit (though it was already pristine in Rukia's opinion), he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Isn't that what you like?"

The petite woman's cheeks colored instantly as she looked down at her lap, muttering, "I didn't think it was something worthy of your attention."

"You've taken over tasks not required of you, that aren't even associated in any way to your division. Just consider us even." Nodding, her smile was soft as her eyes fell on him.

"Thank you, sir."

A momentary hesitation.

"Don't worry about it." He finally answered, avoiding her eyes.

It took them three hours after they had settled into the rhythm of their work—one doing research (the maps of Karakura, possible entities it could be, how their lodgings would be taken care of) and two more in which Rukia helped him finish his own load of labor. It didn't seem like such a long time to either of them until his companion made a surprised little noise and Toushiro followed her eyes to one of the windows, where sure enough the moon was beginning to come out.

"You can leave if you'd like. I won't hold you here against your will." Taking a sip of her milk carefully, Rukia turned to him with a shake of her head as she licked her lips.

"It just surprised me is all, sir, I meant nothing by it. My apologies." A light blush dusted pale cheeks as she dove back into her own fraction of the paperwork.

How long had she been hunched over that desk? It still surprised him to see how diligently she worked—a huge change from having Matsumoto sitting there, whining and constantly finding excuses to leave. Still, he felt a pang of annoyance at the fact that Rukia actually made him _conscious_ of the hours he was in the office. With his vice captain, it was like he could never find enough time to actually _be_ there.

"Come on."

Before what he was asking could fully register in Rukia's mind (or be understood in Hitsugaya's own), he had hastily organized his desk (a pet peeve, Rukia assumed) and come to Matsumoto's where she was working, tugging lightly on the paper in her grasp and setting it aside before putting his palm out and looking at the brush in her hand.

Lilac eyes flicked from the open palm to aquamarine orbs.

"Are you going to come, or you going to stare at me for the rest of the time?" The captain snapped halfheartedly.

Hesitantly, the brush was placed in his hand.

"Yessir." Was the mumbled reply.

This didn't happen often, and things were already strange enough as they were, so the little break seemed reasonable. . . right?

Hyourinmaru didn't bother to offer his opinion.

Failing miserably to hide both the surprise at the prodigy's actions and her embarrassed blush, Rukia pushed the chair back and nervously followed after him out of the office building, outlining the symbol of the tenth division on the back of his captain's robes with her distracted gaze as she mentally berated herself on her actions.

Still . . . from here, his back looked broad—something she would've never expected from someone only a bit taller than her. But he was a captain, a prodigy, a man who was fated to rise above the rest—a constant reminder of her own shortcomings.

_We're different, Rukia. A comparison of this sort would be very unreasonable._

To who though?

But there was no reply.

They walked like that for a bit, contemplative eyes trained on the man before her in the cool night. The moon illuminated their path brightly—the clean streets and scattered trees, melding with the soft yellow beams that fell out in rays from drawn blinds . She didn't necessarily understand what was going through his mind, but it was obvious that the heavy responsibilities were taking their toll on him. Even with her other musings, tt made her happy to know that at the very least, her presence was taking a little of that load off of him.

"You're very quiet for someone who won't stop staring."

Did he have eyes in the back of his head?

The young Kuchiki's face was burning again as she buried it deep between her fingers (he wasn't looking at her after all), but she wasn't about to let him know that as she suppressed the urge to groan in humiliation.

"S-sorry." Well, she _tried_ not to admit it.

"You want to ask me something?" The way she openly gawked at him made a bizarre sensation run down his spine. It was like she was trying to pick at his insides— sort of made him wonder if this curiosity was what constantly kept her in dangerous missions to begin with.

He wouldn't doubt it.

At the same time, he couldn't say it really bothered him past the fact that he had no idea what she was thinking. Somehow, that in itself seemed kind of dangerous.

Well, that and the way she chose to trail behind him as opposed to at his side also annoyed him. It seemed that in everything she did, it never failed to remind both herself and whatever superior was in her presence of her inferiority.

Even now as she blushed madly—something he could tell without even looking at her.

At the same time, Rukia was racking her brain for something to fill the sudden silence with and falling miserably short. It would be way too awkward to say what she was thinking (and rather upsetting). So instead of continually making a fool of herself by staying silent, she blurted out the first thing her mind conjured up as a question.

"How many times have you been to the real world?"

Not that it was necessarily the most random thing, but somehow the obliqueness of the question threw him off. Toushiro didn't know what exactly he was expecting, but that hadn't been it.

For a moment the white haired youth stopped in his tracks with his companion mirroring his movements. Turning to her, he noted how the moon sent shadows across her pale skin and intensified the violet of her curious eyes as she slightly tilted her head.

It was. . . . almost magnetic.

Shrugging, aquamarine eyes tore away from her, calloused hands hooking behind Toushiro's tense neck and fingers lacing together in a makeshift cradle for his tired head. It put pressure at the nape of his neck, elbows raised and blocking Rukia from his view.

"Not many—possibly even only a handful of times."

They continued walking.

"You practically live there, don't you?" It wasn't mean to be insulting or anything, but judging by her silence she had taken it that way. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he turned back to stare ahead.

"Any customs I should know about?" By then he had become accustomed to her slower pace, trying to revive the conversation after feeling her slight discomfort at his comment. Tanned arms lowered back to his sides and the captain was back to scrutinizing the young Kuchiki noble subtly. "I've heard that lately humans tend to take on holidays almost as fast as changes of clothing."

Unable to help it, his companion grinned. "You could say that. There's so many holidays now that it's getting hard to keep up with them all." A raised brow was her reply, silently urging her to continue.

"Well, there's Christmas, Halloween, White Day, Valentine's Day. . . something called Easter. . . and those are just the ones I can remember. Most of them are ones brought over from other countries—on top of the more traditional ones we have here."

"I guess I never hit the holiday season when I went over. Lucky, considering Matsumoto's party streak."

"Yeah, I think you would be in over your head if she decided to drag you to every celebration on the other side." A shy grin.

"Let's hope it never leads to that." He muttered.

The breeze picked up then, and he watched as Rukia offered a subtle smile, clutching a stray bang and hooking it behind her ear. It was then that he remembered the habit he had noted and Toushiro couldn't help but let the question resurface in his head. Even as they continued on the quiet paths of Sereitei, the thought nagged more and more at the young genius' inquisitive mind (now that he had re-acknowledged it) pretty much to the point where he threw caution to the wind and let the words leave his mouth.

Because that kind of thing wasn't what someone got from an innate feeling.

"My turn to ask a question." Surprise flickered through lilac eyes as she hesitated in a step, watching as her superior's face lifted slowly to stare at the sky in thought.

It almost seemed rude to look her in the eye when asking something so personal. As an afterthought, he added, "you don't have to answer."

A couple more steps and they both glanced over as a messenger passed them, offering a polite nod before continuing on his way.

Somehow the silence of the man walking beside her made Rukia nervous.

"Twice I've caught you with a hand at your neck. . . bad habit of yours?"

It was offhand, cool and something that made him wonder if he had crossed a line.

But why?

Surely having broken the contemplative quiet that had settled between them was something to apologize for. Still, the nagging in his head was far stronger than his characteristic coldness for some reason—something he couldn't ignore in the small woman at his side now.

Maybe _his_ curiosity would be his downfall.

Black brows furrowed in confusion, a hand once again reaching for a slender neck (this time consciously) as if it would help her remember. Then something flashed there in her gaze, and her eyes turned melancholy, a forced smile on her features as she offered a polite little laugh that sounded a little too practiced and hollow to his ears.

"Sometimes. . . I guess when I get nervous I still feel the collar around my neck." It only took him a moment before he realized what exactly she was talking about and why her gaze was averted. "Silly, huh?"

He didn't have an answer for that.

After a few minutes of awkward silence (in which he began steering them back) he figured he should be fair and so grimacing, crossed his arms. His words were low, timidity and hesitation lacing them. "Your turn."

It took Rukia a moment to process what he had just said, in which she blinked skeptically at him. Finally, she raised a brow.

"May I ask. . . why we're playing twenty questions?"

"You do realize that counts as your-"

"No! No, no! Wait!" The small smirk aimed at her only added to her frustration as she tried to conjure up some form of a question.

"Uhhhmmm . . ."

"Getting old, Kuchiki."

"Sir,no offense but that excuse doesn't count on this side."

"Don't get smart with me or I'll take your question back."

"S-sorry, sorry! Ok uhhhhh. . . . where did you grow up?"

"Junrinan."

Silence for a moment, and then, "Oh."

In the distance she recognized the path leading back to the tenth division.

"Your question, sir."

Why did it sound weird when she called him sir? Suddenly pulling rank didn't seem so fun anymore.

"Alright. . . ." A sigh, their steps filling in the silence as they continued and Toushiro tried to think of something, unconsciously running a hand through his hair. His quick mind readily tried to offer something as soon as he began flashing through all their brief meetings: feelings, thoughts, and memories running at the speed of light.

Then it hit him.

"You signed your last note without your rank. What rank are you in your division?"

Another question that had popped up once while rereading the neat little note pinned to his uniform.

"Oh. . . ." The attention to such a minute detail surprised Rukia.

Glancing sideways at her, Hitsugaya noted the strange almost ashamed expression on her face.

"Ukitake-taichou won't let me take the exam for a seated officer. He says that there are some things that I'm not ready to handle yet."

Really?

She was the reason they had a damn good trump card (Ichigo), always was in the know about every major situation (if she wasn't part of its indirect causing), was a noble, could hold her own against an _Espada_, had a shikai with three different attacks (prior knowledge from the Zanpaktou rebellion and side information on how her sword had been responsible for the Kuchiki mansion's total trashing), and she _wasn't enough for a position_?

What the _hell_ was wrong with Ukitake?

He contemplated this as they neared the barracks, opening the door and allowing her entry first before following, eyes lingering on the small figure that directed her way towards Matsumoto's chair to continue where she had left off.

What she had said left him curious.

Even as they worked, each poring over different files, separate tasks, a plethora of winding thoughts, Hitsugaya couldn't help the constant derailing of his mind between papers, between crunching numbers, or even sometimes between separate breaths. Eyes that were once so focused constantly fell back to the only other stirring soul, trying to understand and read between the small delicate curve of moving lips as she muttered, the flicker of emotions in a veiled gaze, inquisitive as a small hand came up to flick a stray bang frustratingly away.

Was it really two hours that he stayed like that?

When Rukia did finally leave, he couldn't help but feel a strange ambiance settling in the room at her departure.

Was it . . . emptier?

Of course, Matsumoto's snoring broke through his train of thought before he could put his finger on it, smirking as he realized he had almost forgotten to do his vice captain a little favor before his departure from the office.

It really didn't take long to go through all her office haunts.

Making sure he had been thorough, Toushiro locked his assistant inside the office before slinging the bag full of his findings over his shoulder and began thinking of places where he was sure people would be happy of his donation.

It wasn't until about an hour after Hitsugaya's departure when Sereitei heard the wail of frustration as Rangiku Matsumoto realized her money and every secret stash of sake she had carefully smuggled into the office was gone. Not to mention that unless she could break through the doors or windows (which would not help her case tomorrow as it was), she would be having a nice little office sleepover until the secretaries showed up early tomorrow morning to open the main building.

Toushiro slept soundly that night, knowing that at least for this once, his vice captain would be there on time for work the next morning.


	5. Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo II

**A/N: **This chapter was hard to fill in. X_X Even though I had ten pages initially, adding scenes was rather difficult. Even so, thanks for sticking here with me. :P As for all of you with questions on the plot line, I'm very happy you're interested but I don't offer spoilers, sorry. Lol. Oh! And for the love triangle. . . there are a few runners up but I'm not one hundred percent sure yet. . . though I am about eighty or so percent. . . ish. . . maybe. Hahaha.

Also, I'm doing these in "arc" style. The first arc was titled after well, the main title XD and the second arc began last chapter. . . why I'm doing this, I don't know.

Change of pace maybe?

**Disclaimer: **Do not own, do not sue. :P

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

* * *

_

**Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo II  
**

**

* * *

**Few things ever bothered Byakuya, 28th head of the Kuchiki clan and captain of the sixth division of Sereitei.

And these men were one of them.

Two elders, both stern faced and unwavering as they sat as regally as he, hands with skin wrinkled by age properly placed on the table before them. The silk that clothed their fragile bodies was of the best kind, simple in color but more expensive than Sereitei's overall price would ever be in the next one hundred years. Time-blessed wisdom radiated from their every tired breath almost as if the minutes themselves weighted them down in the silence of the private chamber.

They didn't speak—barely moved.

And no matter how much Byakuya would wish it to stay so, fate always had other plans.

"You understand why we are here, Byakuya."

Only two people were allowed to speak to him in such a manner—three, if his pride ever realized her worth to him.

The quiet draped over them like a heavy cloud.

"I deem it unnecessary." Both advisors turned to him, then glancing at each other before the second man, with the aura and dress of a Buddhist monk, turned to face him with a heavy sigh.

"Was the Winter War not enough of a reminder of what you would be losing?"

His life, his pride, everything he had worked so hard for?

An image of Rukia holding a sword to her own neck, and then slate gray eyes turned their attention back to the two other souls inhabiting the room.

No . . .of course not.

"My moment will not come any time soon, you can rest assured on this matter."

"You are a foolish man, Kuchiki Byakuya."

No one missed the fourth presence that suddenly moved among the shadows—the way the young man sat silently in the corner, or how his armor glinted in the candlelight as he stared at them from behind the angry red mask.

_Foolish zanpakou._

He would have to deal with his sword later.

"You know very well that if a second in line is not announced, you could be putting the clan in possible danger of inner turmoil. You have put the matter off long enough." The first one said.

"As your guides, we allowed you time to grieve your loss. You must stand now and face the consequences of your choices." The second interjected seamlessly.

Somewhere inside, Byakuya felt the pang of losing Hisana, the helplessness that had wrapped itself around him like a noose when she finally revealed that she was dying--the sad, almost desperate attempts he had taken to try and save her.

And his choice to continue by her side knowing she would never bear his child.

Even so, only the slightest narrowing of the captain's eyes was their response.

"You must produce an heir, Byakuya."

Fists tightened, Senbonzakura tried his hardest not to give away the fury he felt being channeled from his master.

"I have no such plans to do so." Was the simple and level reply. No anger, no hitch in voice or movement to indicate the rage that boiled deep inside his soul.

This game was nothing new anymore.

"If you do not, then actions will be taken, do you understand?"

He was not stupid—in their own question they had laid a trap for him, baited him with another query that would naturally come from their statement. Even so, knowing this he could do nothing more but follow.

Lifting his proud head, the head of the Kuchiki clan calmly asked, "and what would those be?"

Both men before him shifted, sharing a slight twitch of the lips that would've been a smirk—or maybe it was a trick of the light as they turned to him. Their eyes held contemplations, rules, ancient laws that he had broken twice already for his late wife.

Would he have to break another?

Surely the consequences would not lead him astray again, would they? Byakuya had paid his dues, restored the honor of the clan when one of their own had gone astray, and even brought up Rukia as a proud member under his wing—it had to count for something, surely. . . no?

"If the head of the clan refuses to name a second in line, then the next of kin would be initiated into the process."

He could already see a dilemma in their demands.

"Rukia would not be able to take the initiation." It was subtle, but the relief was there.

Females weren't allowed to initiate as head of the clan.

The shifting of tired bones and a deep almost chiding sigh. When the slants that were the old men's eyes finally opened again, their attention stood unwavering (and unfazed) on Byakuya's own. This in turn, bothered him deeply and tipped him off.

"A problem easily fixed of course, as soon as you choose a proper suitor. The man you select, Byakuya, would carry on our name."

He had realized it a moment too late—how they had cornered him.

"You must choose, Byakuya—the memory of your late wife . . . or Rukia's future."

* * *

Toushiro Hitsugaya would be lying if he said that he didn't take his sweet time getting to the office that morning.

When he did arrive, it was to find a note from Rukia left to the secretaries and an obviously absent Matsumoto, who would probably be gone for today until she decided she could forgive him for his stunt.

He gave her two hours at most.

Taking the small piece of paper left along with his other morning things, he sat down in his chair while staring at the writing.

_Hitsugaya-taichou,_

_I've spoken to Kurosaki Ichigo and Inoue Orihime about our lodgings already, to which they have both agreed. I will be staying with Kurosaki and you in Inoue's apartment. I figure warning you about Orihime's cooking would come too late, as you would already have experienced it yourself. . .instead, I took the liberty to tell her not to bother cooking for you, that our mission would carry on deep into the night. If you have any other problems you would like to address before we leave, do not hesitate to find me—I will be taking care of a few things back in the thirteenth division barracks. _

_-Rukia Kuchiki of the 13__th__ Division_

Her writing was neat and elegant—no doubt a trait instilled in her by Byakuya.

Setting it down, he sighed in relief at the thought of not having to eat anything. . . unidentifiable. It hadn't really hit him that Orihime would provide his lodgings (and thus the food) until Rukia had brought it up.

She was a step ahead of him.

Things passed on quickly from there on for the rest of the morning, Matsumoto making an entrance like a whirlwind of energy as she threw the doors open three hours later and offered a happy (and obviously drunk) hello to her favorite captain.

It took him half an hour of attempts to try and get it through her head that he was leaving, and another hour just to get her to sit down long enough for her not to knock something over—after which she promptly fell asleep on the couch. At the same time, he could safely say his patience had been shot for the day, and so he instead called in (more like yelled at) one of their two main secretaries to deal with his vice captain and to keep order in his absence or by God he would make sure everyone in that building would pay with more than just their paychecks.

After having made sure to thoroughly instill enough fear into the poor young woman to last her well into the time he would return, Toushiro settled back into doing what paperwork he could before his departure that night.

By the time he looked up again, the usual lunch rush had begun and with it brought a man with similar white hair knocking at his door.

"Come in, Ukitake." Setting the brush down, Hitsugaya nodded a hello to his fellow captain. The smiling man enthusiastically settled on the couch opposite from the strawberry blonde unceremoniously sprawled before him, but not before depositing a handful of treats onto the corner of the prodigy's desk.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't like sweets?" Not even a mere minute in the door and already he was making the captain of the tenth division flustered. A vein was already threatening to start popping from his forehead.

Was this a new record?

"I figured since Kyoraku-san wasn't around to drink, I'd come to say hi to my favorite little Shiro-chan."

"It's _Hitsugaya-taichou_, Ukitake." Maybe it was because of how long Toushiro had been glaring evilly at the older man, but it finally hit him that Joushiro Ukitake was smiling just a little wider than usual and he seemed to be having trouble keeping himself balanced enough to be sitting straight.

A frustrated sigh.

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

Since when the hell had tenth division become the sober patrol?!

Really, a yes (or an obviously fibbed no) would've sufficed. Of course, things never quite panned out the way the rigid captain of aforementioned division liked, and so he watched with annoyance (and a speck of amusement—just a tiny bit) as Joushiro giggled like a schoolgirl and swatted a hand at him in a conspiratory manner.

"When I stopped by Kyorako-san's division, Nanao-san was there-"

Ohoooo, was this man _ever_ wasted.

Another giggle and in the loudest whisper Toushiro had ever heard , the captain of the thirteenth division continued, "-And she said he had a few bottles left in the office that she was about to get rid of."

Nothing new of course. Everyone knew of the poor lieutenant of eighth's division and how it was a constant I-Spy game for all the expensive bottles her captain tried to sneak into the office building.

Well, it was a good thing at least that Matsumoto was under his watch and not Kyouraku's or nothing would ever get done in the eighth division. Still, it would be nice to get someone who actually did their work once in a while. . . the office work anyways—Matsumoto was more than capable on the field.

Another sigh, this time just tired.

"Lemme guess—she gave them to you."

"How did you know?!" Another hysterical fit of giggles. "Rukia-san has been taking care of everything so I didn't have anything to do and-"

"Rukia?" Immediately Toushiro's attention was caught, his guest suddenly turning surprisingly serious.

"Yes." A heavy nod that the thirteenth divison captain had a hard time coming back up from. "She's been preparing things so that everything will go smoothly in her absence."

"But she's not even a seated officer, so why would there be anything different while she was gone?"

Brown eyes turned to him then, a lopsided frown his reply, almost as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then again, there also seemed to be open resentment there as well.

"That, my dear Shiro-chan, is thanks to no other than Kuchiki Byakuya." Ignoring the pet name momentarily, Toushiro instead followed Ukitake's movements with sharp eyes as the older man flopped down onto the couch, eyes closed. "He specifically asked—no demanded of me--when I took her in."

Why. . . ?

Shooting back up again into a sitting position with more than just a wobble, Jyoushiro continued without urging or pause between statements. "Of course at first I tried to talk to him, you know, speak reason and make him see that it was foolish to waste such a fountain of talent but. . ."

The finger that had been waving around in a lecturing manner suddenly slowed, a weary and sad sigh escaping the drunken man's parched lips.

". . . . but?" The white haired youth prodded, suddenly interested.

"Wouldn't budge." There was a rustling of robes and then he was lying on the couch again, an arm over his eyes. "Of course. . . I couldn't say no after . . . told. . . .Hisana. . ."

"Hisana?"

Too late, the young man realized with a few hesitant steps to the other captain's side. His breathing was even, a slight smile on his lips and the arm that had been over his eyes slumped awkwardly above his head in the small space the couch allowed.

Allowing himself a small scowl of annoyance, Toushiro grumbled all the way to the secretaries' station, making sure to send one of them as messenger to the thirteenth division in notification of their captain's current whereabouts. The whole way there he marveled at how barely discernible the slur had been in Ukitake's speech.

He'd probably had lots of practice over the years, Toushiro thought sourly.

Shaking the thought away with a weary hand running through the thick white tuft of his hair, the captain hesitated at the doorway with eyes drawn to the two sleeping figures in the room.

Hisana. . . who was Hisana?

White brows knit in thought, the shifting of socked feet on the wooden floor was barely perceivable to his ears. Somehow, Byakuya doing something to hinder Rukia in her progress seemed very strange to him (and quite illegal), though that was the least of his worries. Still. . . hiding Rukia behind a frail man was nothing short of genius! Who would ever question a gentle man like Jyoushiro? Surely old man Yamamoto didn't even have Rukia on his radar as anyone worth keeping tabs on anyways.

It was a little too perfect for it not to get the better of Toushiro's insatiable curiosity.

Of course, it wasn't like he cared any for her affairs _personally_, it just struck him as . . . odd. There was some piece of the puzzle he was missing and it was going to bug the living daylights out of him until he figured it out. But for now, all he could do was pinch the bridge of his nose, settle back into his chair, and pray that he could put at least a nice little dent in the stacks at the corner of his desk.

Which of course, Toushiro Hitsugaya knew (beyond a doubt) would not happen.

The clock on the shelf behind the couch the frail older man was sprawled on mocked him—apparently Ukitake's visit had taken up only a mere ten minutes at most, if that.

Nonetheless, time practically (and amazingly) flew with him stuck behind stacks of work he knew would only be doubled (if not tripled) by the time he returned, and so he called it quits when Rukia knocked on the door. By then Jyoushiro had long been dragged away by his two third seat officers, bickering all the way there (and surely all the way back).

"Hitsugaya-taichou," Rukia said, bowing, "Are you ready to leave?"

A deep sigh, wondering what time it was exactly and knowing no good would come out of asking unless he wanted to really feel the hours he had been sitting behind his desk—without eating.

Ignoring the emptiness he felt in his belly, he nodded and began to arrange everything on his desk so the secretaries wouldn't have trouble finding whatever papers were needed—though they would probably be willing to tear up the office and face his wrath for the damn reports after the little talk he had with one of them that morning. Nonetheless, the last thing he needed while away was a phone call demanding to know where certain things had been placed (even if he did have a photographic memory).

"Let's go."

Things happened in a blur after that, the walk to the gateway uneventful and a lot calmer than he thought it would be—then again, travel with Matsumoto usually entailed her taking forever to get ready, forgetting things, leaving necessary paperwork undone, and who knows how many other minute problems only she could come up with last second. The small Kuchiki girl was obviously prepared, a small bag like his own slung over one shoulder.

The trip was anything but complicated, both shinigami landing softly on the grass in the human world five minutes after their departure with Rukia already trying to get their bearings. Not too far off she could already see Orihime waving madly as she ran towards them, Ichigo not too far behind.

Greetings were exchanged, and soon enough they were on their way to Orihime's house for a semi-meeting and to see what information had been gathered thus far through Ichigo. As the door was opened though, it was obvious that the redheaded teenager had put quite an effort into hospitality for her guests (and totally disregarded what Rukia said over the phone), the table set for four and many strange dishes littering the surface--some even still bubbling.

She didn't note the collective cringe or how they all hesitated to step inside.

"I figured you would be hungry, and I've been hoping to try out some new recipes I came up with so I just mushed both ideas together-" The way she brought both hands to clasp loudly didn't help the appeal of the food—somehow Rukia guessed that it was also how she handled the ingredients-" and tada!"

A grand gesture towards the table, and Rukia offered a weak thank you before bravely going over and settling into one of the chairs. A swallow, and then with the fakest smile Toushiro had ever seen, she turned to them menacingly.

"Hitsugaya-taichou, Ichigo, aren't you guys hungry?" Running a hand through his hair, Ichigo took a step back towards the door. The brown of his irises was on anything but the petite woman on the other side of the room who was currently throwing daggers at him with her warning glare.

"Sorry Orihime, my sister already has dinner waiting at home and she'll feel bad if I don't show up." Visibly crestfallen, Orihime shrugged but nonetheless put on her best smile.

"Well, it can't be helped." Behind her, Ichigo caught the mirroring glare from both shinigami.

"_Traitor." _Rukia mouthed.

"We'll just have to eat it all without you." Trying not to laugh at the reactions behind the redhead, Ichigo called out his goodbye and threw one final victorious smirk at Rukia before casually strolling out the door.

"I guess planning will have to wait 'til later then." Hitsugaya muttered darkly, frowning. Turning to his companion, he watched with mild interest as her brow furrowed and her face took on an intense look of concentration.

By now Rukia had already honed in on the more "safe" looking dishes and had begun grabbing a small chunk of each onto her plate so that it looked full. At the same time, if she really REALLY didn't like one, she could always eat a sample of another that she could hopefully choke down at the least.

This should be an art all its own.

"Wow, Kuchiki-san you must be really hungry!" The fork was in her mouth still as she nodded, wincing at the particular spiciness of the morsel—this she could probably eat, seeing as the flavor was masked by the spice (was this some sort of an attempt at curry?). Her eyes followed Toushiro as he pensively sat down beside her, meeting her gaze as she fearlessly popped another bite in her mouth.

Their hostess smiled radiantly, fussing over details and going back and forth between the kitchen and the table to make sure they were well tended to.

Rukia lost count of how many drink choices Orihime had brought after the initial five.

In her absence, Toushiro eyed a bowl of pink looking rice in front of him before lifting his fork to point at it.

"What's in-"

"For your own safety, don't ask." Rukia hissed in a panicked whisper before Orihime came out of the kitchen again and the petite shinigami turned back to her own plate. The fork hovered—left, right—left. . . .the right lump in the corner. . . were those raisins?

"Orihime, this one is really good!" Better be safe--she stuck with the one from before (curry?). "I like how spicy it is."

Passing the bowl over subtly to Toushiro as she chatted with the other young woman, she could've sworn she caught a look of gratitude on the captain's face before he plopped a generous portion on his plate.

If she ate it and hadn't died, surely they would be ok. . .

Of course, if he had listened to her written advice, he wouldn't be going through this scenario to begin with—obviously he'd never admit to that though.

Dinner continued like that, Rukia methodically testing and passing the edible ones to the captain beside her, who picked and chose the ones he felt would not kill him by the morning—he didn't want to be dragged back in a casket over something so ludicrous (a saying of course, because everyone present knew there would be no body, duh).

Still, the report would be rather absurd.

By the end they had all eaten and no one had suffered spontaneous combustion—much to Hitsugaya's relief. He couldn't really say he had ever had much of Orihime's cooking (usually he snuck off before lunch or dinner) and knowing that Rukia was still alive was nothing less of a miracle to him.

Afterwards, the two young women took to talking about some show or other, comics, and how many episodes Rukia had missed in her absence. Friendly, loose terms to which Toushiro suddenly felt nothing short of an intruder and thus remained silent. He watched with impassive features, the fork in his hand twirled back and forth between fingers.

In a way, it gave him a chance to think about what Ukitake had (drunkenly) said earlier that day to him.

Teal eyes lingered subtly on the petite woman beside him, watching her movements and wondering suddenly if she knew.

Well, a moment in Byakuya's shoes: proud, stubborn, a bit snobby (very, very, very. . .he could go on forever on this), and maybe, _just maybe_ a bit caring. Of course though, he would never _ever_ admit it and surely even less to the person in question.

Thus, Kuchiki Rukia would never know.

He followed her enthusiastic movements as she explained the last scene from a manga she had just begun reading, Orihime enraptured by whatever story Rukia was telling—surely something cheesy and romantic judging by the stars in her gray eyes.

And this Hisana person. . . who were they?

That he could recall (damn well he might add), there was no one in Sereitei of notability of that name.

Someone of the Kuchiki clan, perhaps?

But why put such a major obstacle on someone who was supposed to bear the clan's name?

"-chou?" Blinking, a confused gaze flitted momentarily between the two women staring openly at him.

Violet eyes met teal then, and Toushiro felt his cheeks begin to flush in embarrassment—was he caught staring?

"Are you alright, Hitsugaya-taichou?"

Waving a hand at them dismissively, Toushiro instead tried to ignore the open stares as he answered, "I'm fine."

Really, he should've kept his eyes down, but when he sensed the atmosphere relaxing again, he found his gaze involuntarily making its way back to Rukia who met his eyes with a subtle glance.

_You're lying. _Was what her eyes told him.

He couldn't answer that as he took his glass of water and took a nice hard swallow of it, Orihime none the wiser.

_No I'm not. _Was what his body language probably told her.

There was hesitance, the subtle shifting of a petite body, and then Rukia returned her attention fully to the other young woman, seamlessly falling back to where she had left off before and animatedly responding, offering Toushiro no room to argue what she had wordlessly accused him off—and had totally been right about.

The conversation soon slowed down and almost immediately they all began to really feel the effects of the food, Orihime promptly shooing them into the living room to watch television. She ignored Rukia's offered help as she put the control in the smaller woman's hand and threatened her with dessert if she continued, effectively scaring Rukia into sitting on the couch with Toushiro.

So for half an awkard hour, the petite shinigami flipped nervously through channels.

Yes she had caught him lying about not feeling ok, but that didn't change that he was her superior. If he chose not to indulge her in the goings on in his mind, that was all up to him—she had to respect that choice and be ready to respond if it required her to do so.

Then again, that wouldn't stop her from worrying about him.

"Do you like to read?" Instantly his eyes turned to her, eyeing her profile suspiciously. The gentle slopes of her soft features were aglow with the flicker of the television, eyes glued to the device in a sort of lazy trance.

"I don't usually have the time."

A yes, a no? She couldn't quite interpret his answer.

"Usually whatever genre people like in books also happens to be their taste in television programs." A tilt of her head, violet eyes curious at his thoughtful expression. "Anything you particularly like, Hitsugaya-taichou?"

A flicker in the deep of teal set eyes and she couldn't look away for a moment—the reaction intrigued her.

"Whatever you watch is fine. To be honest, I'm not even paying much attention to it." Carelessly he waved the comment away, eyes straying again to the television.

"Yes, sir."

More channel flipping, and soon Rukia had settled on an old episode of a crime solving show.

"I have school tomorrow, so I'm going to bed." Orihime called to her guests as she came to stand behind the couch after a half hour of tidying. Rukia was sitting properly on one end, Toushiro leaning his arm on the opposite rest and chin propped up on one hand. Both turned at the same time, the white haired young man bidding her goodnight over one shoulder as Rukia got up silently to hug the other girl.

"I guess it's time I start heading to Ichigo's then."

"You can stay here if you want. I mean, we'd have to share a bed, but it wouldn't be that bad-"

"Thanks Orihime, but my things are all back at Ichigo's anyways." A smile and then she turned to the captain. "Goodnight Hitsugaya-taichou."

"Hold on, I'll walk you over."

"It's alright sir, I'll be fine." Frowning, he got up anyways, turning off the tv before standing before her.

"We're using you for bait for whatever is out there and you just plan to walk by yourself _at night_, fully aware that a _captain_ was sent to take care of it?" A spark suddenly lit in her violet eyes as she stood her ground.

"I know these areas better than anyone else in Sereitei, _sir_, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"In a gigai."

"Yes, in a gigai." Raising an eyebrow at her, Toushiro sighed and headed for the pack she had discarded earlier by the door and turned to her.

"Let's go, Kuchiki."

They had forgotten Orihime was still there until she sheepishly called a goodbye to Rukia, well aware of the growing tension in the room.

"Just leave a window partially open, please." Hitsugaya called over his shoulder. Orihime nodded, following and offering one last wave to Rukia before locking up for the night behind them.

They crossed streets and walked together side by side—never once hovering in each other's space. In the silence between them, Rukia lost whatever twinge of annoyance she had before and calmly gazed up at the moon. Following her stare, Hitsugaya sighed.

"Tomorrow we start after dark. Be sure to get as much sleep as you can before we head out."

Ever the hard worker, she thought with fondness.

"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

Their footsteps were calm in the cool night, shadows falling around them as they strolled from streetlight to streetlight on the sidewalk. Rukia smiled at the sight of a man running his dog, nodding in acknowledgement to him before continuing on.

In the back of her mind she wondered what it looked like, seeing two young people on foot at such a late hour by themselves. Pushing the strange thought away, her eyes fell to the sidewalk as she forced herself to concentrate.

"I think we're going to end up searching the night clubs." For a moment he thought Rukia was talking to herself until she turned expectantly to him.

Instantly his face scrunched into one of distaste. Running a hand through his white hair, the captain tried to think of other places but failed to see logic in any of them as he frowned. Still, as futile as the attempt was, the notion made it out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Isn't there any other place you can think of-"

"With all due respect sir," a nervous fidget of her small hands and the petite young woman looked up at him, "I can't think of anywhere else where a high population of women would be plausible enough for an attack."

Of course there was no way denying that. Nonetheless, trying to put off the fact had been a last ditch effort that had to be done so that there was a total exhaustion of excu-err, possibilities.

It wasn't until he heard the small exhale of breath at her jump that he realized they had reached Ichigo's window. Mimicking her movements, soon they were both crouching on the small ledge and she gave him a shy thank you at the offer of her backpack.

Violet eyes strayed to the window and slowly, pale features scrunched in a lopsided frown.

"He's already asleep." Rukia said, eyes coming back to him. "I'll just speak tomorrow with him and report back to you early in the morning, if you would like."

"That's fine." Nodding, she cautiously slid the window open and threw her bag in, the pack arcing well over the bed and landing with barely a sound by the closet.

Wait. . . why was she throwing it into a room with no second—

One foot was already past the window sill before she noted his questioning eyes and hesitation stopped her from going further. Neither hand moved from its perch on the frame of the window, and the awkward pose would have made him snicker except for the fact that her violet eyes were focused completely him.

"Something wrong, sir?"

"Kuchiki," He whispered, eyeing the room again to make sure he hadn't missed some rolled up futon or form of bedding— "where do you. . .?"

Blinking, thin black brows rose in naive bewilderment at his question. Her gaze went from the room, to him, and back again.

"Uhm. . . oh. Oh!" Realization dawned on her face.

"I sleep in the closet." She said, as if it were the most natural thing.

Eyeing the said lodging, Toushiro raised an eyebrow. He had seen how much Matsumoto carried and thus had, on a biased opinion, assumed she would have her own room by now in the house—and if not, probably that closet was filled to the brim.

Women were strange creatures.

"This is where I've been staying every time I come. It's where all my things are."

"Oh." Was the slow reply.

Smiling at him, she began to crawl in, not even bothering to hide the noise or make an effort not to wake Ichigo, who had his bed lined up with the window she was currently stealing in to. Nudging one of his feet away from the area where she was going to fall into with her foot, she ducked agilely in and proceeded to shove Ichigo away from her corner perch.

The way they treated each other spoke volumes of the trust between them, Hitsugaya observed. When she shoved him so she could sit by the ledge and talk to the captain, Ichigo had begun waking. Rukia announced her presence and told him to get back to sleep, sighing as she settled into her tiny corner. Teal eyes watched as Ichigo turned in the bed, not even bothering to acknowledge their presence any further.

Rolling her eyes, Rukia turned her attention back to Toushiro.

"You should be fine with Kurosaki in the room. He still isn't very good at turning down his reiatsu so it'll mute yours enough that it won't catch any attention here. We don't know what exactly our target is after, so play it safe." She nodded thoughtfully.

"I will call you as soon as I finish speaking to Ichigo tomorrow morning."

"No need. I'll come back tomorrow as soon as I wake up."

"Yes sir."

"Now go, get some sleep. You need to stay sharp." Another quiet nod, and he couldn't help catching the light scent of lavender about her as she did an awkward half-bow.

"Good night, Hitsugaya-taichou, and thank you for walking me over."

"Good night, Kuchiki, get some rest."

As he began walking back to Orihime's apartment, Toushiro felt her gaze slowly following him until she could not trail him from the window anymore. Looking back up at the moon, he closed his eyes and let the breeze run through his hair, sighing as his thoughts began to wander—would his office still be standing at the end of all this?

_I like her. _Hyourinmaru said out of nowhere, stopping Hitsugaya momentarily in his tracks. Tilting his head in thought, he shrugged.

"Yeah. I guess she's ok."

Well, for now anyways.


	6. Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo III

**A/N: **Well, I must say that this has been the hardest chapter for me to write thus far. D8 Probably because I can't write romancy stuff very well. Comes with the territory I guess, of trying to expand my abilities. . . Still, I like it overall. :)

Though I would much rather like a second opinion: in other words--REVIEW! lol. For those of you that have been, you are my adoration, my duckies! X3 Much love to you all! Hahaha. Anyways, Here it is, and enjoy ^^

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**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

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**Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo III**

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Tiny feet swung back and forth idly, frowning around the half a waffle dangling from her closed mouth. In her hands was a cell phone with a map of Karakura Town with no indication of any hollow activity, eyes boring a hole into the screen in concentration as she mentally dared the device to announce any foreign presence.

"So you're just gonna take this on your own?" The black haired young woman clad in a pink tank top and jeans sitting on the edge of the open closet nodded, taking the phone in one hand and using the other to take another bite of the waffle. Violet eyes followed her orange haired companion as he walked back and forth in the room, shirt buttons being done up as he looked for the things he needed to take with him to school.

"Well, if you guys need me, you know where to find me."

They both looked up as the window slid open and a scowling Hitsugaya crouched into the room.

"Don't insult me, Kurosaki, you're help would only get in my way."

"And a good morning to you too, shorty." A half smirk and Ichigo shouldered his bag, offering a sarcastic salute as the vertically challenged captain glared him down from the bed.

"It's _Hitsugaya-taichou_ to you, _substitute_."

Unfazed, Ichigo headed for the door with a grin. "Rukia, you know the deal."

Waving him off, she called a goodbye as she hastily finished her waffle and twisted to pull something out of the closet, gesturing for the flustered captain to sit at the desk as they heard the main house door close loudly a floor below.

"Good morning, Hitsugaya-taichou. I trust you slept well?" She wasted no time, instead offering him a paper full of well organized notes and a plate of food she brought up after Ichigo's family had left.

At least Orihime wasn't on the premises this time.

"Slept fine. What's this?" His attention turned to the paper, food momentarily forgotten.

"A list on what we got so far." Watching him carefully as he read through it, Rukia took a seat on the edge of Ichigo's bed. Pale shoulders hunched, her palms found their way to the edge of the mattress for support, legs swinging slightly. "There's no doubt that whatever's been striking women has been doing so at clubs. All of them were single and appeared to have gone in alone."

Were they really that stupid to step _unaccompanied_ into a place that clearly was nothing but trouble? Toushiro didn't think anyone was that. . . well, _dumb_.

It reflected in the heavy sigh and the way his brows furrowed.

"I called the other shinigami on duty—apparently the two that were killed were trying to stop an attack and were overpowered—it's possible that they underestimated their opponent, but I wouldn't doubt that our target could've had the element of surprise somehow."

"Anything else?"

"To be honest, not really. We still don't know if it's a hollow. The radar, according to intelligence from Soul Society, says that there is a flickering _as if_ a hollow is there for the span of a few seconds—but only at night; sometimes even in two different locations in the same time span. And we can't blame it on glitches because it's been verified that the system is working perfectly fine." A quick glance and he noted how her gaze had turned a shade darker, mouth set in a grim line as she stared at the paper that was spread on the desk before the captain.

"The victims are all missing."

She had recognized one of the names on the list—a girl from school who had sat with Tatsuki and the others every once in a while at lunch, and it made her realize how close to home it had hit. If it were any unknown human it would've been less _uncomfortable_, but somehow it being someone she had spoken to not even a month ago left her more attentive of the situation.

A soft exhale, and teal eyes followed her movements as she took to staring at hands that were now clasped in deep thought. There was not even an inkling of fear about her, Toushiro noted, even though her life could possibly be more on the line than ever; it didn't seem to faze her at all.

It made him respect her just a little more.

"How many humans are there gone, exactly?" His cheek was propped on a cupped palm, elbow leaning on the desk for support as he turned the chair just enough to have her in view. Before he realized what was going on though, Rukia rose to join him at the desk, hands splayed on the smooth surface and thin black brows furrowed in concentration.

"Seven humans, two shinigami." The tone was somber, eyes falling to the listed names of the victims on the paper. In the back of her mind, she could remember how a mere half hour ago Ichigo and her had sat before a small radio and written down the names of the human victims one by one on the paper as they were said.

Swearing, Toushiro ran a free hand over tired features before sighing heavily. "And do we have any idea where the next target will be?"

"We were trying to figure it out." At this, Rukia twisted and pulled a folded map out of her back pocket, spreading it on the desk for him to see. There were marking all over it—spots with a vibrant x on top of them, others circled, and some holding question marks over the different colored areas denoting separate parts of the town.

"That's too many for humans not to notice. What do they think it is?"

"A serial killer. They even detained a suspect." A quirked eyebrow as she glanced at him.

"An innocent?" She shook her head.

"Ironically enough, no. But if we don't stop this before our target's next attack, the suspect will be set free."

". . . And our possible locations?"

"There are five clubs in Karakura-" A finger pointed all of them out for him-"-of which he has attacked three."

When he realized which two were left, he cursed. "Opposite sides of the map, great."

Nodding, Rukia turned to sit on the bed again, Toushiro immediately feeling the abrupt emptiness beside him—a lack of someone radiating a gentle but cool reiatsu that felt similar to his own. From where she was as of now, he could only just barely catch her scent, her reiatsu muted so low (for her own safety) that it was indiscernible from the small distance between them. "We have a fifty-fifty chance of catching him. If we could just crack whatever pattern he has, we can find which one he's aiming for."

Surely this couldn't be too hard for someone who had graduated young from the academy with flying colors?

Leaning over the map, the white haired young man looked at the crossed out locations and the numbers above which he assumed were the order of the victims, immediately diving into the puzzle with nothing short of a business-like approach that caught his partner's curiosity. For a few minutes she sat there watching him probe, question, mutter, and frown his way through the possibilities silently.

She didn't realize she was gawking.

In fact, she was in such deep thought that it could've been argued that she wasn't watching him, except for the fact that her contemplation had been _about_ him (of course she had no idea what was going on, so the argument would've been useless to begin with). From the angle she was currently at (a few feet away from the desk so that Hitsugaya would have his personal space) she could see his profile just enough to discern most of his expression as he worked; and somehow it made her smile.

Curious violet eyes noted how the captain's brow furrowed, how icy aquamarine eyes roved over the map and rough fingers formed imaginary lines from location to location, lips muttering incoherent thoughts. Her gaze followed his hands over the map as if in a trance, wondering for a moment how it was that such a prodigy could look so normal at work.

He looked . . . sort of. . . attractive. . .?

_There's nothing wrong with that thought. _Sode no Shirayuki interjected as Rukia dipped her head to hide the sudden onslaught of redness to her cheeks.

_He's just as much a man as you are a woman, you know. _

Was she. . . encouraging the notion?

_I am merely stating a fact, is all. _

Rukia didn't like where this was going.

_You're not a hollow, Rukia-sama. Having feelings isn't against the rules. _

Well, it might as well should be! Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou was nothing short of amazing and . . . cute (even if the word was hard to say even in her mind), but he was a captain and she was a nobody. She doubted he would ever look her way in anything short of comradeship—something destined to fail even before it had started. Plus the fact that the very idea was beyond mad!

But why was she even considering something like that?

Shaking her head, Rukia tried her hardest to derail the thoughts circling her like swarming bees, only to find she couldn't get past the deliberation without much difficulty.

Toushiro meanwhile, had almost completely forgotten Rukia's company in the room until he felt a familiar prickling sensation that made him aware of the other shinigami behind him. Stopping mid-mutter and risking a glance up, violet met teal for a moment before the black haired young woman sitting properly on the edge of Ichigo Kurosaki's bed blinked away the soft melancholic look on her features.

"Hm?"

An awkward moment of silence filled the bedroom where he questioned what he had seen, birds chirping outside and the sunlight illuminating both the bed and the young woman perched upon it. Somehow it was as if the light was searching for her on the bed, was coming through the half-curtained windows just to touch the pale skin of her petite back with its' ribbons of light in the silence.

Then it hit him.

"The numbers. . ." Tilting her head in curiosity, Rukia got up from her perch to join the captain at the desk once more, wary this time—almost shy as she kept more distance between them than before but unable to hide her interest in his findings.

"It's looking for someone." Lilac orbs followed his hand as Toushiro pointed out the pattern he had picked up.

"Notice how he hadn't attacked those two at all, even though he had plenty of time? He's going to one of these three again." Here, attentive eyes noted the names written in quick kanji over the crossed out clubs. "The other two don't have whatever-_whoever_- he's looking for. And if you count how many times he's attacked each place—we're most likely to find it again at Fusion."

Blinking, Rukia turned to him from where she was leaning over the map. "Hitsugaya-taichou, how do you know it's after a specific person?"

"They all share the same characteristics: they went in alone, were single, but most of all _they looked alike_." She didn't budge at the implication of danger for her. It didn't scare her at all to think that what she was here to do was simply because she could play the part right. It wasn't like she wasn't aware of the consequences anyways, especially since Inuzuri had taught her long ago that this sort of thing was her specialty—particularly if one had a bumbling idiot like Renji doing the stealing.

"There's someone within the radius of these three that it finds appealing." When their eyes met again, there was a strange look on his face and Rukia couldn't help turning away at the intensity behind his gaze—couldn't take any more of it after the odd thoughts that had been running through her head just moments before.

Still, she tried to force herself to concentrate.

"We have to go in as humans to not attract its attention. To be honest sir, I've never been in a club."

"Neither have I."

A strange silence, and then-

"I'm sorry Hitsugaya-taichou, but I had to call in someone who would be able to help us with this situation." The way her hands fidgeted nervously didn't help him feel better. In fact, it made him wary of her, on top of the fact that his fingers were twitching with the desire to just grab her wrists to make her stop fiddling.

"Who did-" Rukia jumped as her phone rang shrilly in the room. Digging in her jeans pocket, she took out the device with a sheepish grin and flipped it open, bringing the tiny device to her ear. A concise greeting, and then the small shinigami exchanged quick answers with the person on the other end, all the while throwing nervous glances at the captain until she finally took the phone in one fluid motion and flipped it closed, stuffing it back in her pocket before turning her full attention back to him.

"They're here." Were her only words of explanation, turning towards the door but not before grabbing the map and the list and stuffing them into her back pocket. She allowed his exit first, closing the door to Ichigo's room behind them and leading him down the stairs towards the main entry where someone had begun to inexhaustibly ring the doorbell.

_Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong,dingdingdingdingding-_

It wasn't until a while later that Toushiro thought that _that_ should've been the giveaway clue to who was at the door.

When finally Rukia dove and wrenched the door open, Hitsugaya watched in bewilderment as a familiar young man with blue hair and sharp sapphire eyes stepped through, immediately offering his curt greetings and followed by an obnoxiously familiar squeal of joy (which conveniently started as soon as she stopped playing with the doorbell).

"TAICHOOUUUUUUU!"

At least she was sober.

Toushiro didn't bother to dodge, too astounded by the sudden presence of his lieutenant and the Quincy to understand what was going on. While he was being unabashedly smothered by Matsumoto's sizeable assets, Ishida was already eyeing Rukia analytically.

"I figured we would need help fitting into the club. . . so I called in a couple experts." Grinning guiltily, Rukia looked from face to face in the room.

"We need to get going on your outfits now, or else I'll never finish in time." Pushing his glasses up, Uryuu crossed his arms over his chest in a serious manner, already geared up with a small bag the others were already sure was nothing but a wide array of sewing materials.

"Shoppiiiiing! We're going shoppiiiiing!" Grabbing Rukia by the wrist, the buxom blonde enthusiastically dragged the girl out the door before a single protest could be made. Toushiro could already hear Rukia trying to come back to at least to close the door, to which Matsumoto finally agreed after the Kuchiki woman conceded to buy her a souvenir.

Waiting for her, Hitsugaya watched as she secured the door and pocketed the key.

"What did Kurosaki mean earlier when he said that you already knew the deal?"

"Oh, he meant about how to lock up the house. He gave me a key so I wouldn't have to jump in through the window in the daylight with my gigai. We figured it was too much of a risk to keep this from humans if I got caught."

From then on the captain of tenth division remained relatively silent, at least until Matsumoto nearly suffocated him (again) with her chest in the subway ride and Rukia started snickering, which he silenced with a glare.

With Rukia clearly taking care of everything, the least he figured he could do was not become a load—as much as he despised being dragged around. Besides, the young woman seemed like she was starting to enjoy herself as she asked questions on how she should act, what she should do, how she would dress—to which Matsumoto and Ishida readily answered.

"Now," his lieutenant began, wagging a finger at her, "if he starts to try to get smart and puts his hand on your leg-"

"He won't get that far." Silence for a moment, and then all eyes on Toushiro as he turned with a dangerously narrowed stare from his seat in the row before them. "We'll catch him before he lays a single finger on you, Kuchiki."

At this their eyes met and a deep blush spread on Rukia's cheeks.

"Atta-boy!" Matsumoto cheered from beside him, ruffling her captain's hair. She ignored his protests as she turned back to their companions.

"Anyways, like I was trying to say, have a little fun with this! Flirt a little, attract some attention-"

"I can't protect her if she has a bunch of men trying to feel her up, Matsumoto, stop feeding her bad ideas!"

"I can protect myself perfectly fine, sir." Now when had he heard her say that before? Oh yeah, when she was going to walk alone in the dark. . . with their target on the loose.

"Either way, we can't let her go in alone." Ishida interjected before the tension spread. "If you don't walk her in as a couple, most of the men will target her from the get-go. Besides, even if a couple walks in, usually they don't stay together in there, so it's nothing out of the ordinary to be seen separate once you're inside."

"You've been to the club, Ishida?" Rukia asked in surprised curiosity. It wasn't like she knew much about him, but somehow it seemed strange to her—the main reason she had chosen him was because they needed outfits that wouldn't make them stick out like a sore thumb, but that had been the extent of what she believed his experience with such a matter would come to.

His face turned red but he didn't reply, relief spreading on his features when a voice on the intercom called their stop.

"Come on, let's go before the next group rushes in." Raising a brow, Rukia followed the quincy out, noting how he nervously pushed his glasses up and tried to keep a neutral expression.

By the time they had all pushed through the crowds and made it onto the streets, Matsumoto had already spotted three stores she wanted to try and promptly grabbed Rukia by the wrist again, dragging the smaller woman excitedly after her into the crowds with their two male companions protesting at the sudden surge of energy.

The only plus to this, Rukia thought as Rangiku gave a wink to a young man eyeing her, was that the buxom blonde had the uncanny ability to clear a path for them as they walked.

Other than that, her wrist wasn't really taking to the treatment well.

Glancing back, she waved a hand high, calling out to Ishida and Hitsugaya who had fallen behind in their momentary disorientation by the bustling crowds. By the time they had caught up to the two women they were already in the store and Rangiku had three blouses draped over one arm.

"I don't like this place." Rukia muttered with a wince at a price tag.

"I'm not surprised Matsumoto dragged you here, to be honest. Modest was never part of her vocabulary." Toushiro muttered dryly from behind her.

Turning, Rukia looked around with nothing short of discomfort, almost as if she was afraid to dirty something if she touched it—or even just looked at it. "I don't think I can afford anything here."

Toushiro raised a brow. "Doesn't your brother take care of your expenses?"

A grimace was his reply before she shook her head. "I take care of all my things myself, except for food and housing. I don't like to take Byakuya-nii-sama's money."

"Well gee then, what's the point of having such a fancy name if you can't take advantage every once in a while?" Matsumoto popped up from behind the rack Rukia was leaning by, grinning.

"Don't worry Kuchiki-san, it's always the guy's job to pay anyways, right Hitsugaya-taichou?"

"Eh?!"

"Yeah, you'll pay for Kuchiki-san, right?"

"M-matsumoto-san I really don't think-" Rukia tried to interject.

"Ne, come on taichouuu, it's not like you get to go out on a date every day!"

"Matsumoto-san really it's not a-"

"Matsumoto we're here on a mission, we're not here to play!"

"Seriously? Yeesh, lighten up!" Huffing, she brought a hand to Rukia's shoulder, pushing the younger woman in front of her towards the dressing rooms with a free hand. "And don't worry about it Kuchiki-san, I'll take care of it. You won't get many chances like this to play dress up so I'll make sure we make it worth your while."

Rukia didn't notice when the strawberry blonde turned and stuck her tongue out at her captain, to which he scowled. By then Ishida had found some clothes though, and promptly dumped his chosen bunch into Hitsugaya's arms before ordering him into the changing room as well.

And even though Rangiku demanded to see each and every outfit on Rukia, the latter of the two refused to come out when she realized how much skin was showing. In fact, from his changing stall Toushiro could hear his vice captain trying to coax the younger woman out of the dressing room to show her. It wasn't until Rukia's blatant lie that the last blouse didn't fit that she got some peace, Matsumoto racing off excitedly to find a better size.

"I'm starting to think Matsumoto was better suited for this." He heard her mutter.

And of course, he couldn't agree more.

Matsumoto, though taking the mission seriously (it was shopping after all), found the blue haired quincy looking through a rack she had missed and went towards him with a twinkle in her baby blue eyes, unable to help the sudden chance to speak with him alone. Personally she thought the young man was cute (if not a bit stiff) and messing with his head was something she had wanted to try ever since she had first seen him in Kurosaki Ichigo' s company.

Not to mention the fact that she wanted someone to scheme with now that she had a possibility at a new betting pool for the Women's Association.

"I think they look cute together." She didn't look at him. In fact, it was so offhanded that Ishida immediately felt that there was some sort of test going on when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with something akin to a Cheshire grin. A nervous finger pushed up the glasses falling off of a thin nose, Uryuu wondering why exactly he felt suddenly cornered by Rangiku as he rummaged through different blouses and tried to come up with something neutral to say. "No?"

There was a look of deep contemplation, Rangiku noted with delight. Of course he already knew who they were talking about—she somehow could tell Uryuu wasn't slow when it came to these things and she was also well aware that by putting the bait out, he would get curious enough to become her underling if she handled her cards right.

"To be honest. . ." A sigh as he continued to look through the racks of clothing—"Everyone figures that eventually she's going to end up with Ichigo."

A moment of silence as she frowned thoughtfully at the blouse she had just lifted off of hanger. Finally deciding she didn't like the hot pink flower print, she placed it back.

"There's no way. She's way too short for him, can you just imagine how they would—"

"No, no I can't and I would rather not!"

A strange look.

"I was talking about how they would look together."

Silence again, this time with Uryuu red-faced.

"Oh."

Grabbing a tank top and adding it to the one already draping off of her shoulder, she turned with a wicked smirk towards the dressing rooms.

"Though I do think you would be right. Sex would be rather hard with-"

"M-matsumoto-san!"

Throwing her head back, she laughed all the way to Rukia's dressing room.

Somehow they ended up with a system in which Rangiku took care of Rukia, Uryuu of Toushiro, and once they felt satisfied with a particular piece, would ask for the other's opinion. Slowly, through five stores, six grumpy sales clerks, one particularly (scary) bubbly one, and two nearly matching outfits, the now tired group ended up at one final store for a final attempt to search for the last of Rukia's outfit: a nice skirt.

"What about this, what do you think, Ishida-kun?" Raising a particularly skimpy piece, Rangiku caught the young man's attention as they argued (now completely comfortable around each other) about the pros and cons of such a short piece (if it could even be _called_ a skirt to begin with). Momentarily alone, Rukia turned to Toushiro.

"Sorry sir, I'll understand if you want to leave. I can take care of this by myself."

Apparently she had noticed his discomfort, which he honestly wasn't trying too hard to hide—in his opinion, this was a waste of time. But then again, it wasn't like they had anything to do until night time anyways . . .

"No, it's fine. As stupid as Matsumoto can act sometimes, she can be pretty sharp too. Just don't listen to the flirting part—I don't feel like taking out a human because he was trying to get smart with you."

"By the time you get to him sir," Her face was turned towards the racks of clothing but he could see the mischievous grin on her face, "I think he would be out cold."

There was no Momo here. No gentle little girl with a naive smile and a too soft heart. He liked that—couldn't even help the half smirk on his face. She was small, but she was anything but a pushover (which demanded respect) and he could do that.

Hell, he welcomed it even.

"Just remember that not everyone is sober when you go in there." He offered in warning. There was a small, almost cheerless laugh as she turned to him.

"I grew up in Inuzuri, sir--there's nothing a man can do that scares me." A strange look flickering on her features, and then she was walking away towards Ishida who had beckoned her over and left Toushiro to his own thoughts.

Inuzuri. . . . this tiny woman had endured Inuzuri?

But wasn't she a noble?

He barely protested (a total lie) when they continued poking at his gigai, when they ordered him to change a million times (he shut up after Rangiku offered to dress him as Rukia's _sister_) or even when they were trying to teach him how to walk in with Rukia's arm in his (a plan he still wasn't sure about, but hadn't realized was just Matsumoto plotting with Ishida once they had come to the sound conclusion that here was prime matchmaking potential—though the betting pool back in Sereitei would be just as sweet). There was nothing that gave any of his thoughts away as they had lunch or even when he yelled at Matsumoto that having done this was not going to be an excuse for the paperwork he was sure was piling up on _both_ their desks.

Which of course went unheard, and he knew was going to come back to bite him later—hard.

As they finally walked back to Ichigo's house from the subway station, he barely spoke; hadn't noticed when Ishida had wandered off a different path to go home for a while to finish alterations, or when Matsumoto loudly called her goodbyes and said she was going to visit Orihime until they decided to get ready for the mission.

Rukia steered them through a park, the afternoon sunny and warm enough to where children and parents were seen freely around. It had been a while since he had seen the terrain, noticing off in the distance the soccer field where he had helped Ichigo's little sister a long time ago.

_You should speak._

. . . . did Hyourinmaru seriously just try to get him to talk?

_Yes, yes I did. _

Why?

_If you talk to her, I can almost see Sode no Shirayuki._

He wondered why his zanpaktou was so adamant about it until he felt the disgruntled sword's frown.

_Her element is ice too._

Mirroring the look he felt aimed at him, Toushiro sighed.

"Something wrong, Hitsugaya-taichou?"

"No, it's nothing."

Silence again, at least until Rukia caught sight of an ice cream vendor and hesitated. Remembering who she was with at the last moment though, she caught herself and instead continued while praying her companion hadn't noticed.

No such luck.

"If you want some, you can go get it. Our mission doesn't start until later." Noting her flinch, he couldn't help the amused look he threw at her as she turned away in embarrassment.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, sir." Children playing around them, and he turned to her seriously.

"Call me Hitsugaya-san here. There's too many humans around. I probably should've told you that earlier but I forgot."

"Y-yes Hitsugaya-tai. . ." Hesitating, she tried again slowly. "Hitsugaya-_san_."

But then she killed it again by bowing.

"I'll be right back." Beginning to trot over, Rukia stopped in her tracks for a moment, seemed to think something over and turned on her heel towards him.

"What would you like?" Shaking his head, the white haired young man waved the question away.

"I don't like sweets." Black brows shot up to her hairline, violet eyes openly staring at him in baffled surprise. Before she could even think to close her mouth again, the question popped out.

"Why?"

"I get too many from people who have no idea what else to get me."

"I'd kill for a present like that." Not a single drop of sarcasm, not even a blink. In fact, there was a bit of a sparkle to her gaze. . .

"So uh, you going to get your ice cream or. . .?"

"Ah! I almost forgot!" A sheepish grin. "So what flavor would you like, Hitsugaya-san? There's Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, melon, coconut, cookie dough, uuummm. . . banana and watermelon."

Wondering how many times she had been around the vendor to have so easily learned the flavors, he was about to ask when he realized what options she had mentioned.

_Watermelon, watermelon, watermelon, watermelon-_

"Just get me a watermelon one I guess." There, perfect. Inconspicuous, calm, and not a radical reaction to the wonderful realization that they had his one weakness.

A few minutes later found them sitting on a park bench, Rukia smiling contentedly as she chewed on a piece of her cone.

"I thought you were born in the upper parts of Rukongai." He said before the question could lodge itself in his throat any longer. It had been bothering him for some reason since she had mentioned the fact—it didn't make sense to him.

Glancing sideways at him, her gaze turned to the lake and the ice cream was momentarily forgotten.

"I was adopted into the Kuchiki family when I was still in the academy. Before that, I lived in Inuzuri."

There was nothing to say after that. Though Rukia was surprised to note that he had actually listened to her, she didn't offer to make any more conversation of it. Somehow, it was relaxing just sitting here with the young genius, for once forgetting that he was above her and just relaxing into her seat while enjoying the icy treat.

Watermelon. . . it wasn't exactly what she would've guessed of him.

The lapping of the lake, the slight breeze, the cold of the ice cream against nearly frozen fingers—deep inside Rukia wondered if this was what being human was all about. The peace of the living lulled her senses as she closed her eyes, enjoying the moment with a renewed respect for the human world.

But if she had paid just a little attention, Rukia would've seen that the white haired young man beside her was too busy establishing respect for _her_.

Because the company. . . . that wasn't half bad. Although stemming from the same element would account for at least a little bit of the uncanny connection between them, no? That was, to the very best of his logic, what he tried to get to explain the sudden desire to understand someone other than himself. Not that he was very self-centered or anything, but having to deal with other people was such a _hassle_.

Nonetheless, Toushiro Hitsugaya couldn't deny now that there was much more to Rukia Kuchiki than he had originally thought—especially with the name she carried on her conscience, even here with an ice cream cone and a serene smile on her soft features.

The afternoon was warm (but not overly so) and the ice cream tasted almost as good as the fruit itself in Hitsugaya's mouth as he allowed himself to slouch a little on the park bench, taking a breather for a moment with a fellow ice weilder.

But if another shinigami were to appear now, he would've passed them by without much of a glance--much less stopped to pay respect to one of higher rank.

Because all they would see would be two human teenagers enjoying a date.


	7. Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo IV

**A/N: O**H MY GAWWWSH, IT'S LONGERRRR! lol.

A seventeen whopping pages, folks. Enjoy it, took me long enough to move everything around to fix some stuff. Characters are being stubborn (Matsumoto is on strike because we ran out of sake again) but I'll see what can be done. Can't have anyone quitting on me now!

Minor language issues, nothing gasp-inducing. I figured I would take a little bit of (early) advantage of my rating, hehehe. ;D

Other than that, thanks for sticking around faithfully my duckies, enjoy and review!

**Disclaimer: **Srsly? This makes me cry.

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

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_

**Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo IV

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**

Rangiku Matsumoto was a woman of feral talent when it came to understanding the inner workings of men.

Contrary to popular belief, the buxom blonde knew that they all had a tad more dimension than just sake and women—though these tended to be the more dominant (and thus wrongly accused) traits for some of the stupid things those of the male population tended to do, the vice captain of the tenth division was well aware it was never quite that simple; because both could also go hand in hand of course.

It could be said that because of this, Rangiku had become a sort of love guru in the Women's Association. When it came to problems with men, she was always the first consulted, one time having even convinced one Ise Nanao into wearing slightly more revealing clothes to work and consequently having the eighth division captain run into a wall when he caught sight of her.

Thus, it could safely be assumed that the woman of ample assets could surely (_proudly_) wrap her mind around any situation involving those of the opposite sex without breaking a sweat.

At least. . . any until now.

What she had once assumed was a young man that either was too young to have ever reached the hormonal stage that was puberty or was just a very damn good closet case turned out to be something completely different _right under her nose_.

Her brow furrowed, forehead wrinkling in deep thought.

Her captain had never been a skirt chaser, or a drunk, or anything of the sort that would give him a bad name except maybe workaholic and downright cold (only on occasions_—_he had his good moments too).

Always, _always_ he was the responsible one, the one who took full accountability and could be relied upon to never fail at anything—a young man of influence and renown.

"Shouldn't you be helping Inoue?"

And now, he was someone generous enough to have fully paid everything that Matsumoto had volunteered to pay for—everything that she had gotten to turn the young Kuchiki woman, his partner (and their bait) into a princess for the night—the skirt, blouse, accessories. . . she couldn't even begin to fathom the numbers. In fact she hadn't (purposefully) so that it wouldn't give her a heart attack until she got home.

But he _had_.

And it didn't seem to affect him in the least; no anger, no popping vein, no yelling at her for going for the expensive stores.

Nothing.

Cerulean eyes turned from the commercial on television slowly, the lights flashing on his eternally wrinkled brow and tan features, outlining them in a faint glow. The room was pleasantly warm, Rangiku noted idly, warm enough to be untouched by the dragon's reiatsu and offering a subtle reminder of the peculiar calm to her captain.

"Something you need?"

Baby blue eyes searched his own with curiosity and a strange fascination that unnerved him in the heavy silence between them, her chin propped up on the hand that was hooked over the edge of the couch as she sat opposite from him and paid no heed whatsoever to the woman on tv urging them to head over to the sale that would go on in two days at the new shoe store.

She made no move at all—no playful jab, no bouncing up and down, no urgency and petition for her daily afternoon nap. Totally quiet if not for the strange glimmer in her gaze, almost as if there was some sort of puzzle before her eyes that she just couldn't quite solve.

He knew-_expected-_ something bad then, bracing himself and knowing beyond any inkling of doubt that the stillness of a woman as tenacious as her never ended well.

"Why?" She finally asked.

At first he thought maybe he had heard wrong. Surely the question had been a query coming from his own mind, poking and prodding at his need for logic to the point that it had taken an almost physical persistency. But then there was a subtle glance, and the white haired youth noted the unwavering resolve flickering in the eyes of the oddly serious woman beside him.

The intimacy, the way in which the question was stated –jokes aside and all—did little to reassure Hitsugaya, who felt the sudden need to run from his companion. Because he was no fool—he knew at once what she was alluding to but refused to acknowledge it, much like a drowning man trying to keep himself alive on a sinking boat.

Did he have an explanation?

Yes.

Was it a logical one?

Yes.

Was it the only reason?

. . . . he wouldn't be able to lie to her—she was the only one who could see right through it.

Then again, did he necessarily know what these other reasons were exactly?

. . . not really.

So, carefully keeping his gaze on the screen he shrugged nonchalantly. Thin lips opened with subtle hesitation (and bravery allowed only to the few desperate enough to wield it), the answer he had chanted in his head a million times before to convince himself falling out without a second thought much like the spilling of water over a tipping cup.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out there's no way Rukia would be able to pay everything by herself, Matsumoto."

There. There it was again.

The woman scrutinizing him caught how he addressed their fellow shinigami with acute perception. Surely handling a sword with a shikai of thousands of tiny ashes had been some sort of training for her ability to encompass all and the parts therein whenever she pleased—like now when dealing with an impenetrable wall like Hitsugaya.

And a wall he may be, but she had years of experience and could not recall him ever being this willing for anyone. . . not even Hinamori (on her best days) could get him to buy her lunch.

Was there . . . something else going on that she wasn't aware of?

Because it was obvious through pure observation that whatever was happening was one-sided. No, the strawberry blonde didn't necessarily know Rukia Kuchiki as well as she probably should for judgment, but from what she had seen the small Kuchiki was completely oblivious to the –how to put it—_special_ treatment. And from the way one white haired prodigy was squirming under her stare, it could only be deduced that boy genius (as she so fondly called him in her head) was up to something.

Then again . . . did he even realize why he was doing it himself?

"I was going to pay everything." Matsumoto said with a hint of mirth at the idea of the young man being so naive. Cat and mouse and this was her domain where Toushiro could do little but try and run in circles to confuse her, if only a tiny bit.

"She was planning to pay you back little by little." A momentary stillness, the tension of an open stare still not leaving his form, and the catching of the slightest uncomfortable (nervous) repositioning of his body on the floral print couch.

It had been a while since she had seen him squirm.

"I wouldn't have let her."

"Trust me, she'd find a way."

Again they hit a rut of silence, Rangiku tilting her head to the side with a gaze narrowed by suspicion and glee at his inability to steer her astray in the dark living room.

"How do you know Kuchiki-san would do that?"

Shit. . . . this was the question he was trying to avoid—_had_ been avoiding since the beginning.

"Because. . . she just strikes me as that type of person."

Not entirely a lie, but not completely the truth either.

So the game continued.

And that's when Rangiku came to the realization that this was probably something that he hadn't even come to understand himself deep in the recesses of his complicated head—something _new_.

"Matsumoto-san! Can you help me with Kuchiki-san's hair?"

The call from the bedroom down the hall tore her burning gaze away from the captain, effectively making him want to sink into the couch with relief until she gave him one last warning look telling him she wasn't done with him yet. Sighing, Rangiku flipped a stray strand of hair over her shoulder before finally getting up and brushing past the young man without a backwards glance.

On the couch, a deeply pensive Toushiro couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen. Since he had gotten to Orihime's apartment he had sat there, silent even with the others' constant comings and goings. If he had shifted it was only barely so, hand limp beside his leg and remote long forgotten; buried into meaningless thoughts and questions towards himself that even Hyourinmaru seemed to have no answer to.

And if he who knew the ice wielder better than himself didn't know, then who would?

If someone had turned suddenly and asked him something—anything—about the show, trivial or general he wouldn't have been able to answer. It was simply an excuse to zone out, to pretend that there was something he was doing when in reality his thoughts were just running at a speed that rivaled that of the flicker of each commercial.

Why _had_ he paid for her?

Well, because she couldn't pay for it herself of course—and she wouldn't accept Matsumoto's help, if her pride was any indication.

Duh.

_I don't see why you're making this so complicated. _

It wasn't like he did this every day or just for anyone—even Hinamori had testimony to that.

_Ok, so you did it to help her, end of story. _Was the frustrated reply.

Well. . . yes, he sort of did. . .

_Ok, so why else?_

Because. . . because. . . ?

It was on the tip of his tongue, mocking him with its' strange flavor, teasing and taunting with a hair's finesse and ghosting from his reach with barely an effort. If he could describe it in any way, Toushiro would say dancing—weaving, ducking, gliding and chasing the hand of something he, for all his knowledge, could not understand.

He didn't know what it was . . . but it was _there_.

"She out yet?"

Toushiro didn't catch when the door had opened (blamed it on the gigai's abhorrent hearing system) and glanced up at the two young men coming in as if they owned the place—one in shinigami garb, the other in human clothing, doppelgangers in appearance but not emotion. While Ichigo nodded curtly, Kon simply ignored him and would've begun a straight dash for the bedroom where he claimed he could "smell Nee-sama" had it not been for the well placed kick to his back, effectively pinning him to the ground.

"No way in hell you're going in there with my body, stupid!"

Kon twitched.

Hitsugaya barely paid any mind to the struggle that ensued once the two males began to bicker, not even wincing when a sneakered leg flew over the back of the couch and nearly caught him on the head. In fact, he began to wonder whether or not he was overdue for another channel change once Tomoko decided to confess her love to Yamato—

Until the remote was knocked out of his hand by another of Ichigo's (whether human or not he couldn't tell) limbs.

Closing eyes that were beginning to glitter with a flicker of annoyance, Toushiro took a deep breath and tried to ignore the vein that was threatening to begin popping with his anger as he reached for the remote at his feet.

Surely by now someone had begun to note the temperature drop. . .

* * *

Rukia had always pegged Orihime as someone who could safely be called _obsessed_ with all things flowery. This of course, had not changed over the months of their friendship, had probably instead grown with the manifestation of her powers and had accumulated itself in the many trinkets around the room.

But then she noted something strange as she sat before the vanity silently, allowing the two large-chested women to do with her hair as they pleased.

_Orange_.

It was no secret to anyone (except for the dense twat in question) that Orihime had a major crush on Ichigo. And as violet eyes roamed lazily around the little she could see through her own vision and through the reflections in the mirror, she quickly caught how that too had manifested in the safety of her private room.

On her large bed were alternating pillows—a few flowered pastel pink ones and two that screamed in bright shades of orange. On the walls were posters of bands Rukia had slowly come to recognize in her studies of the modern culture, one catching her eye when she noted with a half smile how each member sported—you guessed it—orange outfits.

Surely there was more she couldn't catch in her current "sit-still-or-we-burn-you-with-the-hair-iron" position.

So as the young noblewoman sat there patiently, not even wincing when her two chattering companions yanked at her locks, her thoughts began to take to a strange path.

Was it love Orihime was going through, or infatuation?

Was there even a difference?

If Byakuya-nii-sama caught her with such musings, surely he would narrow his eyes at her and turn away with a frown of disgust, she thought wryly.

Then the question of the hour as she sat there wondering what her own life would've been as a regular human: had _she_ ever been in love?

Being a street rat had its downfalls, she guessed. Surely it was reasonable that thoughts back when she was in her more youthful days decidedly included ways to catch fish, dead ends in the neighborhood, and which vendors were the easiest ones to steal from--not including the days when the only thoughts that were able to form in her mind included the word **run**.

Which still was a very healthy word in her vocabulary at times, thank you very much.

So then no, Rukia concluded, she had never been in any way, shape, or form in love . . . something that brought about mixed feelings in her heart.

But then . . . could Kaien-dono be considered a crush? There were many a day when she would feel guilty (and more than a little happy) that he was spending more time with her in the daytime than his wife, even if they were in different divisions; but that didn't necessarily mean much—it was duty.

What had his wife told her once, that "love was like an ocean"? The implications (and complications) of such an odd notion made her frown with nothing short of complete and utter bewilderment, oblivious now to how Orihime had almost dropped the hair iron onto her head, or how Matsumoto suppressed the impending gasp of surprise at the other woman's clumsiness.

"What's it like to fall in love?" Rukia suddenly blurted out.

Immediately the two behind her exchanged a look of confusion in the sudden silence that followed the statement in the now stifling room. Slowly, the busty blonde eyed the petite woman before them almost suspiciously before taking the strand clasped in her hand and teasing the end to match those they had already finished in the hair clips.

Gradually, the rhythm came back as Rangiku smoothed down Rukia's bangs with a smile at their reflection.

"Why, you got a guy in your life you're not sure about?" The grin was cat-like as she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, noting how the black haired young woman remained nonplussed by the statement and offered nothing but a weak grin.

"No, no one in particular, just curious is all."

With a tilt of her head, Matsumoto studiously looked over the younger woman's features before picking up small tube of lip gloss and handing it to her fellow shinigami, raising her brows questioningly as she inquired, "What about Renji?"

Orihime continued working diligently, a serene smile on her features as her eyes met Rukia's in the reflection.

"He's just a friend—has been since we were kids."

There was no hesitance in her voice, nothing but a careless shrug of her shoulders as she clasped her hands together loosely in her lap to keep from fidgeting with the lip gloss as she scrutinized her handiwork in the mirror. The violet of her eyes reflected back at her and she wondered for a moment if Hisana's eyes had been the exact same shade as hers or if they had been lighter.

Beside her, Matsumoto hid a grimace.

If she had been there all the nights Renji had gone way past his limit on sake, she would've known clear as day that it wasn't the case from his angle. For a moment she felt sorry for him but placed that thought away to fiddle with later.

"And Ichigo?"

All of a sudden Orihime jerked her hand in surprise, Rukia letting out a yelp as the hair iron came in contact with the tip of her ear.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry Kuchiki-san! I'll go get you some ice!"

"Don't worry about it Orihime, it's fine, it doesn't hurt." Well, technically it didn't hurt _much_. "It's ok."

Sighing, the young shinigami bit into her lower lip as she sent the older woman raising a brow at her through the reflection a dark look.

"Ichigo is just a friend." Was the even reply.

Rukia remembered then, ironically, the day when she had spit out chocolate milk in sheer surprise at the inquiry of his classmates (not hers, no, she didn't belong). How easily the answer had come then (why would she ever set sights on a lowly human?) and how easily she had accepted that as truth in her heart.

Even now, she was beginning to second guess whether she wanted to answer that question differently or not.

Nonetheless, she carefully masked this with the expertise only a thief would know, lying through her teeth with fluid grace.

"We've always just been friends."

What she didn't realize though, was that before she could gain control of it, the rawness of the turmoil she felt on the subject had flitted in an instant onto her face before being caught by the blue eyed lieutenant of the tenth division who offered no remark—the same woman who saw how the smile returned slowly to Orihime's oblivious features and how tensed fingers seemed to relax once more into their current task.

Immediately Rangiku began to try and crack the reasoning behind Rukia's subtle decision to step back and found that it wasn't too hard to decipher once she thought about it. She was a shinigami, Ichigo human (no matter how much he kicked and screamed and claimed to belong), and there was no way to just easily cross such a taboo barrier spanning two worlds and the very fact that _she was dead_.

There was no way around that.

Then there was the problem of when it finally did come time for one of them to jump the barrier—would they find each other again?

Jeez, talk about a tragic romance; and that was just the first reason.

Then there was the chance (more like guarantee) that Byakuya would move heaven and earth to make sure Rukia was unattainable for the carrot top—just as he had done to Renji, who chased after her like an ever unreachable apple on the proverbial tree. Which by the way, was completely idiotic in her opinion when he had had the young woman for _years_ with him before the appearance of Byakuya and had done nothing to try and attain her as more than a friend—had instead (from the drunk retellings) pushed her further and further away until he could do nothing but reach for an inaccessible star.

Men could be a very stupid lot.

Still, even with those reasons (and probably more) Rukia could do nothing but try and hide what she most likely believed to be a lost cause and try to find something a little more. . . solid? Because the substitute was anything but solid—had been a trouble magnet as far back as the first ripples of Rukia's execution had spread.

And Orihime was her friend, making things oh so deliciously complicated of course.

Plus, from the way she asked, it was safe to say Rukia wasn't even sure the tall youth was worth the risk. Especially if the dense moron had no idea of all these things going on around him when he was jumping in to save anyone who needed it with no clue as to how romantically inclined females would feel on the situation.

"Well. . ." Matsumoto began, hoping to lift the cheer in the room a little, "love is like . . . very good sake."

Orihime tilted her head to the side as Rukia's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It makes you do stupid things?" Offered the black haired young woman with a raised brow.

"Apart from that." Matsumoto said with a grin.

"Aaaand. . . it makes you spill your guts out?"

Well, that wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but it kinda made sense she guessed. There was no way the lieutenant could deny the information she had at hand of her drinking buddies . . .

"I think what Matsumoto-san is trying to say," Orihime said as she set soft hands on Rukia's shoulders, "is that love is like a very good chocolate rice curry."

Well, the young Kuchiki wasn't even going to bother trying to decipher that one. So instead she nodded as if taking the statement into consideration before sighing at her reflection, the face staring back at her revealing the figure and poise of a doll.

"Regardless of whatever it is, it doesn't matter now. I have a job to do so I guess . . . it's time to go then, right?" Grinning, Matsumoto hugged the young woman gently.

"Go get 'em, tiger!"

Surely another of her "cultural notes" courtesy of the television, Rukia mused as they led her towards the door.

* * *

"She's re~ady!" Orihime practically sang, popping her head suddenly out of the bedroom door.

Immediately the pair (human and mod-soul) behind the couch stopped, Ichigo now in his regular body and dangling a struggling Kon by the head in his hand. Beside them on the couch, Toushiro got distracted long enough to allow the temperature to come back to normal but otherwise offered no curiosity towards the shuffling being done by the women except for turning off the television and shifting slightly to have a better vantage point of the soon-to-be spectacle.

Not that he cared much, of course.

Slowly the door opened, Rangiku and her partner in crime giggling like mad as they blocked the younger woman from view.

"Ladies and gentlemaaaaan!" Rangiku announced loudly, sweeping an arm up grandly in mimicry of a man she had seen on television once, "We're proud to bring youuuuuu. . ."

"The great-" Orihime interjected, now raising her hands too-

"-the beautifuuuul-"

"Rukia Kuchikiiii!" They announced together, stepping away from the small woman hiding shyly behind them.

There was a moment of complete silence—of utter shock.

The dress was simple, a black little strapless number that followed her curves and accented her waist with a thick belt. On her wrists were several charm bracelets she had borrowed from the redhead and the small of a pale ankle gleamed with a thin ankle bracelet as she shifted nervously from foot to foot, wincing when she tried to brush back a stray bang and found the idea of ruining her hair a possibility.

It wasn't like she hadn't felt the tugging and the tons of hairspray and whatnots that had been cocktailed into her hair to make it stay in the pearly chopstick like hairpieces—but at least for today, her bangs had been swept to the side and two silver crisscrossed bobby pins held them firmly in place (except for that one strand).

It was then that Toushiro realized with a growing frown of annoyance that his partner was wearing _nothing he had paid for_.

As if on cue, Ichigo remarked, "Hey, isn't that the dress I got you for your birthday?"

Rukia nodded, feeling a chill go down her spine when the tenth division's captain laid eyes on her. There was something bothering him and as she dared to risk a glance at him, the feeling that it was her became overwhelming.

Had they taken too long getting her ready?

"It is." She replied towards Ichigo, all the while standing shyly before them.

"You look great, Rukia." Ichigo answered in a tender voice. The smile that accompanied was soft, brown eyes looking deeply absorbed into those of the petite woman before him as he affectionately came forward to lay a hand on her head, not daring to muss it for fear of angering the two women eyeing him dangerously at the likelihood of their masterpiece's ruining, but not missing a beat in making the small shinigami blush.

"Time to go then?" Violet eyes landed on Toushiro from below lowered lashes, clearing her throat timidly.

"Nee-samaaaaa!" Somehow Kon managed to latch onto Rukia's clasped hands and up her arm until he sat on her shoulder, hugging her cheek. "You look so beautiful nee-sama, I wish I could be the one taking you out to dance, and hug you, and-"

Suddenly tan fingers wrapped around the plushie lion's head and pulled him off, dangling Kon carelessly from his grip as the white haired youth eyed Rukia with irritation she could feel coming off him in waves of subtle reiatsu. She hadn't even realized his presence nearby—had last seen him on the couch—and shivered at the proximity of the captain and the cool aura much like her own. "This is a mission, I expect her to treat it as such regardless of the petty baubles used to make her a target."

A struggling and complaining Kon was handed over roughly to Inoue before he turned towards the table to indicate the things he had set there to be ready for their departure.

Things quickly sped up from there on—the recap of exits and entrances they had scouted out earlier was swift, Matsumoto turning to Rukia and reminding her to not forget that Toushiro would be close by, and that the others would be staking out the remaining two clubs just in case they got it wrong. Then Orihime with the list of things they shouldn't forget—identification (they went from being 16 and 15 to 22 and 21), pills for soul release, cell phone, and in Rukia's case an extra little case of lip gloss for touch ups (on Matsumoto's insistence).

Even so, even Sode no Shirayuki whispered her own query of the captain's sudden annoyance with Rukia in the shinigami's ear. The young Kuchiki might be eyeing the maps, smiling at Orihime, nodding at one of Matsumoto's suggestions, but never did the doubt leave her when violet eyes trailed to her partner.

It wasn't very hard to come to the conclusion that she had angered him somehow; but to figure out _why_ would be the fun part.

Beside her, the stiff captain loosened the thin slick black tie from around his neck a little as he led them out the door (to a chorus of goodbyes and catcalls from his lovely lieutenant) to the curb right outside the apartment building where the cab was expected to pick them up in ten minutes. He had planned for them to be ready half an hour ago, but with Matsumoto things never went as they were supposed to so he wasn't surprised in the least at the time delay—it would just mean they would be waiting ten minutes instead of the forty he had planned for.

He tried to ignore the loud goodbyes from the window two stories above them.

It wasn't until Rukia waved one last time at them (and Matsumoto told her to catch herself a cute one) that they were finally left alone outside the apartment complex.

"Is there something bothering you, sir?"It wasn't necessarily completely silent, but her voice surprised him nonetheless. It was soft to the point where Toushiro almost wondered if he had even heard her at all to begin with.

Turning towards his companion, he raised a brow.

"Should there be?" He retorted.

"You're angry with me. I'd like to know why."

It left no room for argument, he realized. She was dead sure and she wasn't taking no for an answer.

Turning to look down the street, he asked, "so why aren't you wearing the clothes you picked out earlier?"

Rukia could do nothing but tilt her head in confusion, brow wrinkled as she tried to understand what had just happened with large, blinking eyes. Was he trying to change the subject on her, or was that the reason for his sudden frustration with her?

"We figured it would be wise to save those for tomorrow night, should we need them. We couldn't just assume this would be a one night mission." She replied carefully, searching for a reaction on the proud shoulders of the ice wielder beside her.

A curt nod was her response.

"I see."

"I am sort of glad though." She said after a bit of silence befell them, "I barely feel comfortable enough as it is in this dress."

"It looks . . . just fine on you." He replied hesitantly before noting the cab coming around the curb.

Rukia didn't have a response to that, even as he opened the door for her and their eyes met.

A small awkward smile and then she ducked into the cab carefully, the cab driver nodding a hello to her before Toushiro opened the other door and sat in the other edge of the cab.

"Hikari said you guys wanted to go to Fusion?" Hikari, they both assumed, was the lady who had radioed their call in.

"Yeah. How long will the ride be?"

"'Bout forty minutes, give or take on traffic."

"Alright." The captain said with a short nod. The two shinigami glanced at each other and then out their respective windows, watching as the world outside moved past them under the wheels of the cab in a monotonous rhythm that they settled into more easily than either party thought. In front of them the taxi driver had turned on the radio softly, humming to the tune as they went and completely ignorant to the awkward atmosphere between his two companions.

At first, deep in Rukia's thoughts she began to wonder why they didn't just give Chappy her gigai and she wasn't allowed to simply run around in her shinigami form. But then taking another second to truly ponder over the possibility about her trusty mod soul, the grimace was evident at the potentially (disastrous) results.

Chappy was. . . a little too happy-go-lucky. Putting her in a club would only further encourage the reaction out of her, and the last thing Rukia needed was to have to drag her away from a would-be rapist.

She shivered.

"You cold?" A slight shift and violet eyes wide, Rukia allowed a crooked grin to sheepishly make its way onto her soft features before shaking her head.

"No, Hitsugaya-san, I'm fine." And Toushiro would've left it at that except he caught the driver's eyes in the mirror and noted the raised eyebrows and jerking of his head towards Rukia.

_I think he's implying for you to warm her up. _

Really? Who the hell was this man to tell him what to do?

_You're posing as a couple, are you not?_

A colorful assortment of words in his mind and then he realized that Hyourinmaru (and in turn their driver) was right.

"Rukia." Immediately her head turned, brows raised in question and mouth open just so as she bit into her bottom lip unconsciously.

"Come here." He said, patting the seat next to his.

For a moment her brows scrunched up and the small of her nose wrinkled in confusion, lavender eyes flicking from him to the area he was indicating with an insistent hand. Blush rising to pale cheeks, the black haired young woman tucked a stray strand behind her ear nervously before slowly undoing her seatbelt and scooting closer to the white haired prodigy with a wary look on her features that didn't escape his gaze.

Still, the petite shinigami didn't question him.

Once she had settled, the next thing she knew there was a strong arm enveloping her small frame and pulling her into the crook of the captain's shoulder.

Toushiro figured doing it quickly while she was still off guard would make things go a little better and a little less awkward. But then the young man realized just how close he had pulled her and things got way more uncomfortable than he had originally intended them to.

A lick of his lips, and the white haired youth holding her couldn't take the abrupt onslaught of Rukia's body against his own, suddenly well aware of every stimulating brush of fabric, the only thin barriers between their skin. The scent of lavender was ever unmistakable on her figured and he could almost feel every curve of her side against his in the dress, knee bumping into his leg with every jolt of the cab. The little of her hair he could place his fingertips on was soft and he could barely resist the urge to try and take the single lock on her face into his hand.

Swallowing nervously, he tried letting his turquoise eyes stray to the environment past their window to attempt and get his suddenly haywire thoughts under control.

What the hell was going on?

Rukia on the other hand, was way too shocked at her current predicament to even try to _move_.

Her senses were immediately overloaded with everything that was Toushiro Hitsugaya, from the musky scent of his body to the soft feel of the shirt on her cheek and the hand cradling her head close. Surely he had felt her small gasp against his body, or the fact that her heartbeat was louder in her ears than any other noise in the surrounding traffic or even the humming of the driver—if not, then maybe he could feel the way her hands clenched in her lap, trying to understand the sudden fluttering in her stomach.

She couldn't speak, had lost the ability to do so when his warmth reached her heated skin.

Silly, but somehow Rukia had imagined the captain would be as cold and rigid as his element. Whether it was a pleasant surprise or not to find out otherwise was still too big a thought for her poor spiraling mind to comprehend and so she settled for swallowing nervously and staying motionless against him.

Slowly, tenderly almost (once Toushiro had finally regained the most infinitesimal inkling of control over his mind), he dipped his head to bury his nose into her hair and Rukia couldn't help but let her eyelids flutter closed.

"The cab driver's watching us." Was the husky whisper, "Our act starts now."

He watched as the soft of her violet gaze was revealed from beneath shadowed lids, eyes wide and almost glowing in the passing light of the streetlamps.

"Okay." She whispered softly before dipping her head into the crook of his shoulder again.

For a while they stayed like that awkwardly, Toushiro catching the driver giving him a thumbs up in the rearview mirror before rolling his eyes and taking to stare out the window once more. There had been something in the food, or maybe he was way more tired than he had originally thought, but he could do little to keep his thoughts on the path ahead. Every once in a while when he finally could think of something other than their current position, a pothole or her subtle shifting would jarringly remind him of the small warm figure enveloped by his arm and he would curse himself mentally for being so childish about the matter.

This was a mission and they were undercover, and all of this meant absolutely nothing to the both of them. _Absolutely nothing_. Once they had lured their target out of hiding and gotten rid of it they would each part ways and it would be as if it had never happened. End of story.

Another bump.

Before he could even think it twice, his arm tightened around Rukia to keep her from losing her balance beside him.

She didn't move.

To his surprise when he looked down, her long lashes were touching her cheeks, and the little he could feel of her subtle breath was even.

Rukia had fallen asleep on him.

Thanking her mentally, Toushiro finally relaxed his grip on his partner and let his thoughts stray for a moment; at peace with the sudden freedom in the darkness. Maybe it was the fact that his personal space had been affected so much throughout the day, or how abrupt everything was, but it was not past him to revel in the small joy of a moment to himself—even if technically he wasn't alone.

It was. . . strange to have her so close.

"Anniversary, I assume?" The cab driver asked, glancing at him through the mirror once more.

Toushiro took a moment to look down at Rukia, absentmindedly stroking her hair—once he noted what his fingers were doing, he stopped. "Yeah."

What the hell was he supposed to answer? At least the driver offered them a valid excuse for their trip, he thought dryly.

"How long you guys been together?"

Uhh. . . what sounded like a good answer?

Hesitating for a moment, he looked down at the sleeping figure beside him. Of course he knew she wouldn't offer him an answer anytime soon, but he couldn't help but hope Rukia would suddenly wake up and help him with at least this much.

Even as he tried glaring at her, he realized the futility of it and instead noted offhandedly how much more relaxed she looked that way—peace suited her.

"A month." He answered the cab driver, noticing his own long delay.

"Aaahhh, the awkward phase still, huh?"

What the heck? There were phases to this?

The only reply was a slow shrug.

"Well, not to butt in or anything, but I think she's a keeper. Not very often these days I see a couple like you two." Toushiro couldn't help it, his curiosity got the better of him.

"What do you mean?"

"She's sleeping on you, ain't she? She already trusts you, son. Takes a lot for a woman to be like that; just ask my wife." The laugh that followed was short but good natured.

Well, what could he answer to that? Rukia was only tired from the exertions of the day, and he didn't blame her. If anything, she had it worse because of all the ministrations carefully undertaken to make her club-ready.

"I don't think she trusts me that much yet."

Really, he was getting too good at these half truths. Either Matsumoto was rubbing off too much on him or _she_ had slipped something into his lunch.

Which was the more plausible was still up for grabs.

"Maybe not consciously she doesn't yet. Can't blame the gal, you've only been dating a month. Give her time and she'll come around." There was the distinct sound of the turning signal then and Toushiro noted idly as they passed a restaurant how the town was coming to life as the moon followed its path across the sky. "You're off to a good start though."

Oh, if the man only knew this was all a lie.

"How can you tell?" He asked then, taking a sort of morbid pleasure in knowing the irony behind the human man's statements.

But then brown eyes flickered to meet his in the rearview mirror at a stoplight, piercing the white haired youth in a way he had never felt before.

"I see people every day, kid. I've seen people break up and use my cab as a getaway. I've seen couples who can't afford a honeymoon and have me drive them to some dingy little home. I've seen a grown man realize he didn't love his wife and just ask her for a divorce after fifteen years of marriage—I know what I'm talking about."

Foolish man--Toushiro had easily outlived him and seen that and more.

"She trusts ya, kid. If you don't believe it, give it time and you'll see."

There was no answer from the back seat.

"Though I gotta say, I'm willing to bet you'll be the first to fall."

Really, it was ridiculously childish of him, but Toushiro couldn't help but take the bait then. It just irked him beyond belief to have someone try to read him so confidently when he knew absolutely _nothing_ of the bigger picture.

"A thousand yen says you're wrong." Not that he cared for the money, but the prodigy somehow couldn't bring himself to let the human simply be so assured with his predictions, the know-it-all. It was foolish to believe in something so damn blindly, and he wanted to prove his point by proving him wrong (he figured Rukia not falling at all would also count as his own win, because technically he didn't fall first).

A quick incredulous glance his way, thick brows raised to a receding hairline. "You sure?"

"All yours if I really fall first."

"Well, my man, you got yourself a bet."

He'd be sure to share the victory money with Rukia—it would technically be partly hers anyways, right? Maybe he could get more watermelon ice cream with that before they went back home, courtesy of a foolish old sage.

Just the thought of it made him smirk triumphantly.

Oh, how he would savor that little effortless victory.


	8. Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo V

**A/N: **Can you believe I started this with about six pages? It blew up to 26! How the hell did THAT happen? XD Lol. Thanks for all your kind reviews, and let it be known the yen issue has been fixed to a thousand, because I'm too lazy to round. XP And sorry for the long delay, exam weeks were brutal and my brain just shut down completely for a few days. ;;

Things are going to get a little. . . hot.

**Fun facts**: The song inspiration for this chapter is _Scar Tissue_ by Red Hot Chili Peppers. One of the characters in here (OC) wasn't in the original version--care to take a guess?

**Disclaimer: **It's safer to say I belong to Bleach than the other way around.

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

* * *

_

**Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo V  


* * *

**

It had been fairly easy to wake the black haired shinigami from the nap she had taken in the crook of the captain's arm, of which he had lost feeling in quite a while ago actually--having to merely shrug the shoulder she had been leaning on and watching as lost violet orbs came back to focus slowly in the passing flashes of speeding cars and city lights. For a moment there was a look of total peace on her face before the soft of her gaze came up to the source of the warmth beside her and then Rukia shot up like a bullet, apologizing profusely with a face redder than Renji's hair.

Quite the rivalry in his opinion.

Raising a brow at her, he couldn't help the small tug on the corner of his lip as he forced his arm to stretch and tried to ignore the sudden tingling running through his arm like prickling needles, offering offhandedly, "well, well, nice of you to join us, Miss Kuchiki."

At this her face lowered to the fiddling fingers in her lap.

"I assume you slept well?" He drawled with a now evident smirk.

An unintelligible mumble was his reply.

"It's alright if you don't want to admit it. Surely the drool spot on my shoulder will prove it well enough."

The look of horror that crossed the young woman's face was priceless. Looking much like a gaping fish out of water, Rukia fumbled clumsily with both words and facial expressions as she tried to regain what little dignity she could, along with at least some control of her slack jaw.

"Uh-I. . ."

But then large violet eyes landed on his arm and noted with embarrassment that she had just been played for a fool—there was nothing on the cloth.

". . . did no such thing!" She spluttered indignantly.

"You're too easy to ruffle-"

"_When you go out there, you're on a first name basis! A couple wouldn't call each other by last name, got it?"_

Matsumoto's smug warning rang through his mind.

"-Rukia."

"_I don't think you'd like to blow your cover over something so stupid, ne taichou?" _

The name tasted strange in his mouth, he realized. It was almost too natural for it to be there, as if his mind had become accustomed to it long before his lips could even relish it.

The girl in question simply tilted her head in the silence, unfazed by the change of honorifics.

"You alright, Toushiro?" It was so tempting to yell at her to call him HItsugaya-taichou, but the white haired young man bit his lip hard to keep from spilling out the reflexive retort, instead nodding.

"You ready?" He asked as they came to a stop. Rukia offered a half grin and a steady nod.

Before she had awoken, Toushiro had gotten the driver's name and promised to call the cab agency asking specifically for him when he had the answer to their little wager (he would give the human maybe two or three weeks, he wasn't really sure—nor cared—of the date) and would make him pay up at least for a nice little handful of watermelon ice cream popsicles.

Swallowing, the captain of the tenth division paid their driver with one last knowing nod thrown at him from the rearview mirror before opening his door and coming around to the other side where Rukia was waiting patiently in the cab.

"_Open the door for her, take her hand when she starts stepping out, help her if she needs it."_

Instructions from his suddenly etiquette-pro lieutenant. Then again, it wasn't like the prodigy could honestly say he would know what he was doing without her help—and she understood that well enough to be shameless in all her erudite glory.

Opening Rukia's cab door, a small hand met his—soft, warm, and delicate in his own calloused grasp. But then it was retrieved just as fast as it had slipped into his, and her arm was curling around his own, the familiar presence encompassing all of his attention.

"Ready?" At her nod they began to walk.

The building they had scouted out in the morning seemed to have transformed in the night hours, modern soft lighting spread throughout and the atmosphere nothing like Toushiro expected.

There were three floors—the first was the lounge, second the dance floor, and third the VIP which was an open balcony overlooking the second floor. The second floor though, started as a mid-level between the two other floors and thus was partially visible through thick glass behind the main ticket area, revealing a man and plenty of equipment with many entwined cables all around him—the DJ.

Toushiro had of course already picked out the best vantage point both to where Rukia would be on the bar of the third floor (a few feet from his stakeout point—in fact a few barstools down where most of the girls seemed to have been hanging out according to the tapped security cameras), and of the dance floor to keep an eye for other potential victims or in case the target tried to lure Rukia through the crowds.

To be honest, he expected her to be a bundle of nerves by now. Much to his surprise, Rukia was anything but.

His partner seemed entranced by the lights, violet eyes curious and drinking in the atmosphere, the people, the uninhibited way in which the club seemed to transform from a regular building to another world altogether where everything was possible behind the giant glass separating the lobby they were entering to parts of the second floor. Paying their entrance (after having to whip out the fake ID's at the incredulous lady's stare) they made their way in easily weaving through throngs of little clustering groups of people conversing.

After catching a couple making out in the elevator, a flustered Rukia had to drag a peeved Toushiro away so that he wouldn't cause a scene dragging the two humans out to give them a sound thrashing at their unbelievably lewd behavior in such a public place. Even here undercover, Rukia almost had to laugh at her partner's inability to step out of the captain's mantle for a night.

"Humans have no shame." He seethed as they went up the stairs.

"Humans are _human_ for a reason." Rukia retorted with a sigh as they made it to the third floor after a moment of silence, passing by another couple and trying her hardest to keep her firm grip on Toushiro's arm as he growled.

After a moment of consideration and noting that the captain's feathers were still ruffled, Rukia opted to stay for a bit with him until he at least calmed down enough to be able to focus on their objective. Professional he may be, but she was already well aware of his total distress at being in such a rowdy and unbridled place and knew beyond a doubt leaving him to his own devices wouldn't be her wisest decision. She didn't miss the narrowing of his gaze when she chose a bar stool right next to his, or how he instead pointedly ignored her when she ordered drinks for two over the thrum of the music from a floor below.

"I think the fruity drinks are better-less strong. If you want something stronger, ask for it on the rocks so at least the ice cubes will melt with the drink and water it down."

Made sense when he thought about it. It also explained why no one drank with Matsumoto very often—the woman took to drinking her liquor straight. Was Rukia a heavy drinker? How the hell would she know that otherwise?

"That's not something an amateur would know." He said offhandedly, eyeing the different bottles behind the several working bartenders.

"Ichigo, Chad, and Uryuu thought it would be a great idea to buy me liquor one time after I asked them why sake wasn't so popular here." She thanked the bartender who set down their drinks, sliding one over in offering to her companion. "Of course that was after they had gotten a bit wasted themselves thanks to Renji's insistence, so enough said about that. I also drank sake several times when I was little. Stole a jar thinking it was full of water and began chugging it with Renji once—next morning wasn't so much fun."

The accompanying wince and faraway gaze was all the reassurance he needed to know that the memory was still clear as day.

"Surely by the first gulp you would've known it wasn't water and would've stopped."

"And surely by that same first gulp we would know that we were beyond thirsty and there was no other man easier to steal from at the moment." Was the slow retort as she took a sip from a colorful concoction in the tall glass.

She got him there.

Her violet eyes didn't miss the contemplative hint to his gaze, or how he eyed his own drink with obvious mistrust. Still, it was enough to keep him distracted, and that was more than enough to bring him back to focus she figured triumphantly with a slight smile.

"Time to get started I guess." She said, delicate fingers lifting the cup by the brim and swirling the drink.

"You know what to do if you need me."

"Yessir." Was the grinning reply as she swung around to get down from the bar stool.

It should've been simple really—watch Kuchiki from the spot he had chosen, not interfere, and wait for her signal if she needed help bailing out from a potential companion (last thing they needed was for the target to come in and lose interest if she was taken).

Well, it wasn't.

She had already been hit on enough times that one hand wasn't enough to count and they had only been there a little less than an hour. Then again it might have to do with the fact that she was clearly attracting attention to herself, acting every bit lady coy and dancing circles around the half drunk people around her. Somehow she managed to get a game of poker started (which she of course had no clue how to play) and was being enthusiastically taught by the three men and the other two women-of which he was beginning to suspect were eyeing her as well--in a very loud rambunctious manner.

It wasn't until they started talking something about a different version called _strip_ poker that he thought it wise to intervene, giving her a warning glare that was hard to miss from her chair before the black haired young woman could answer that she wanted to learn how to play this new game.

It had been lucky that Matsumoto had mentioned it once (after a visit to the real world for some days off), or else right now he would undoubtedly let her literally play herself naked and not even realize it until it was too late. Smart she may be, but he was beginning to wonder how the hell someone so naïve could've survived on her own.

At the very least the group Rukia was now firmly ensconced in seemed to have managed to settle on another round of regular poker.

"She's cute." Teal eyes flicked up to meet the grin of a young brunette, arms resting on the counter and brown eyes meeting his easily with raised brows. "You should ask her to dance."

The empty cup which he had left resting on the bar was replaced fluidly with a filled one, the young woman using a finger to push it across the counter in offering to him.

He shrugged.

"She's running circles around them and they don't even know it."

The bartender smiled. "Those are the best ones."

For what exactly, he didn't know but the implications in the slight smirk were enough for him to try and shut the thought out.

"Either way, you should go talk to her. At least before Jhonny gets a hold of—oh too late." He turned then, noticing Rukia talking to a tall blonde man, well dressed, a penetrating sapphire gaze drinking in the shinigami's form with obvious interest as he sat down beside her at the makeshift poker table. His features were well defined, something that only accented the subtle appeal to him and even seemed to momentarily gain Rukia's interest, intelligence glittering in his sharp eyes as he began to lean over her shoulder closely, probably teaching the young woman some pointers on the game as an excuse to brush his hands against her bare shoulders and small hands.

"Looks like you got competition no~ow." The bartender said in a singsong voice. "That's Jhonny, one of the owners of the bar. American born and with cash coming in with every breath he takes, he tends to go for more. . . _eccentric_ girls."

"I doubt his prey is eccentric." Was the retort, but still there was a twinge of worry in his brow. When he thought about it, really it wasn't so hard a stretch of the mind. Rukia had been born under very straining circumstances and still somehow managed to survive—surely it led to some of her stranger quirks.

They both watched—one with amusement, the other with growing discomfort—as the others started throwing money in the middle of the table. When it came to Rukia, the newcomer raised a hand and dramatically pulled some money out of his white pinstriped coat pocket, throwing it in the middle to the various howls and pealing whistles of excitement Toushiro could hear even over the music.

"He can smell a different girl a mile away hon, give it up, you're not getting her back—at least not tonight." Brown eyes watched with subtle satisfaction as the point seemed to drive itself home in her companion as he took a more somber sip of his drink. "And to be honest, I doubt she'll want anyone else when she sees what he offers her."

She was _demeaning_ him, he realized angrily.

"I graduated early from the university as a prodigy and I have many people under my command who would die for me. Money is the least of my concerns and I'm lined up for a position where I could possibly lead a nation—I'm sure I could at least make her second guess the idea." Was the low reply.

The Cheshire grin behind him was all he needed to know he had lost long before the game had even begun when the young bartender tilted her head at him coyly. "Then what are you waiting for?"

And before he could reply, she turned around with a laugh towards another arriving customer.

_Damn it all to hell_.

Hesitation stopped taught muscles from moving when he realized that maybe this was theirtarget. He surely seemed to have caught Rukia's genuine interest, at least enough for her to drop the act a little and let her gaze flick over to the captain with the most minute of nods before turning her attention back to the man before her.

So, with the rustle of expensive clothing, Toushiro Hitsugaya sat back down to his drink broodingly.

Needless to say, things went by achingly slow for the next hour, where Rukia had fluidly kept up the act and had even gotten the man's number after a couple rounds of several different card games and her new friend patiently taught her everything, even repeatedly putting in bet money for her. In that time Toushiro had given up his restless vigil (after nearly getting felt up by three women) and gone to the bathroom where he allowed his mod-soul to take over the gigai as he snuck past human eyes and went to lean on the wall beside Rukia, who was trying her hardest not to squirm under the captain's unabashed stare.

"Something wrong, Rukia?" The question was intimate, the music too loud for the man's voice to be heard normally and so he dipped his head to allow his lips to brush past her ears. As he came back to his regular relaxed posture, sapphire eyes looked into hers, blonde eyebrows going up and forehead taking on a worried wrinkle.

The others had slowly begun to trickle away, some to dance, others too drunk to really care about the game anymore, or even too unsteady to play the right cards. With the group dwindled down to the two of them, Rukia was trying her hardest to not show interest in Jhonny even though it was getting difficult with his proximity and the lady-like treatment he was giving her—something she wasn't used to.

There was a chill of discomfort that went down her spine as she smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. "Must've had a bit too much to drink." Was the nervous reply around a weak giggle.

It had already been three times Toushiro had seen her dump the proffered drinks subtly into a nearby plant. Really, if this guy was their target he hoped the damned "man" would just go ahead and try to pull a smart move so that he could have something to do. He was bored beyond belief, on top of knowing that there were some people who could see him eyeing him strangely. It was lucky it was at a club where half of the people were either drunk or high on something (stupid humans) and so his presence could be "easily explained." Plus the annoying beats these people called music were beginning to drill a headache into his skull.

Either way, the intimate method in which the American "Jhonny" was treating Rukia was not something to be taken lightly—it didn't take a genius to see Rukia was uncomfortable, but the captain couldn't raise a finger until she said something, especially now that they had a potential customer. Nonetheless, it still got under his skin for reasons he couldn't really begin to fathom.

"Do you mind getting me a bottle of water?" She asked, faking a sudden headache.

And of course, ever the gentleman, Jhonny agreed.

"He's human." Rukia hissed under her breath when Toushiro came to stand beside her to watch the man in question walk off.

"How do you know?" Was the reply from the shinigami beside her, arms crossing as aquamarine orbs narrowed. Violet eyes remained on the man at the bar, smiling prettily as he raised his hand to show that he had gotten what she asked for.

"I touched him a couple times—brush of the hand here and there—and I didn't feel any hitch or anything in his reiatsu. He's normal."

Immediately a sigh escaped the captain, thumb and forefinger coming to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I don't think we're going to find the target here tonight then. This has been a complete waste of time." She nodded subtly.

"Playtime's over. Get rid of him." She gave no indication of having heard him, instead thanking Jhonny for the bottle of water with a dazzling smile and offering a shy grin of gratitude to him when he opened it for her.

"Um, I think I'm heading home now, I'm kind of tired."

"Aw, come on now, why don't you stay? Surely you didn't waste your money simply to sit through a couple card games! Don't you wanna dance?"

"Thank you, Jhonny but really I should go home. I think those drinks didn't quite hit me well."

It didn't escape Toushiro the dropping of honorifics between the two.

"Well, I have to take care of business here but if you change your mind or decide to come back some other night, let me know and I'll make sure they treat you like a queen." An accompanying wink and he fluidly took her hand, bowing down and planting a light kiss upon the soft exposed skin.

Behind them, Toushiro rolled his eyes.

"Thank you Jhonny, I'll let you know."

"Here—if they try to put up a fuss, give them this." Out of an inside pocket on his perfectly tailored suit jacket he pulled out a small card where he simply placed his signature next to the club's name with a pen. "They won't waste your time then."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Faked, but at least convincing enough to spread a grin on her blonde courter's handsome face.

"I'll be waiting for you." And before she could reply, he planted a chaste kiss on her cheek and ducked away. Rukia sighed after he left the two shingami standing there, frowning and unconsciously bringing fingertips to her cheek.

"Nice guy." Toushiro offered dryly, signaling his mod soul over.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to human formalities." She muttered grimly around the rosiness of her cheeks.

The white haired young man didn't offer any comment on the matter, noting the somewhat dazed look in her eyes.

Whether it was the drinks or the man that had gotten to her, he wasn't sure.

"Come on," he offered, jerking his head towards the restrooms, "lemme get back into the gigai and let's get out of here."

"Yes sir."

**

* * *

**

The ride back had been quiet and completely uneventful.

Truthfully it wasn't until Rangiku all but trampled Toushiro as she made a beeline from Orihime's bedroom to Rukia that there was actually a noise that caught the raven haired young woman's attention.

Rukia honestly didn't think such a high pitched sound could be made by anything remotely human until, wincing, she offered a tired hello to her companion. How she managed not to struggle in the larger woman's suffocating grasp was beyond everyone who slowly joined them from various activities.

Their hostess had been sleeping, obvious in the way she yawned heavily and rubbed at bleary eyes, one of the few people not to be asked to stake out a club since the others agreed unanimously it wasn't a situation they were sure someone as soft as her could handle. The Quincy was sitting at the table working on some sewing project, Ichigo across from him and appearing bored out of his skull as he leafed through a book that was most likely part of an assignment, the garments worn to blend in at the club still hugging his figure snugly. Chad looked up at them from his book, turning the page lazily from the couch.

Obviously, Toushiro surmised, none of them had hit anything of interest.

As a barrage of questions was aimed at his partner, the small shinigami offered half muttered answers, somehow making it to the couch (with a nodded hello at the tall youth across from her) before sighing heavily and allowing herself to collapse upon the flowery cradle that was the edge of the loveseat.

"Matsumoto, it's late, shouldn't you already be heading back to Soul Society?" The buxom blonde simply waved off her superior before turning back to Rukia.

"A couple girl stories wouldn't hurt before bedtime, ne Kuchiki-san?" A wink and then Matsumoto planted herself between the two people already on the couch, Chad raising an eyebrow but otherwise offering no comment as he scooted over to try making room for the newcomer.

"So tell me, how did it go?"

Before she could even open her mouth, Toushiro was in front of them with arms crossed and looming over them with all the authority his short frame could muster. "Nothing happened. He wasn't there." Baby blue eyes made their way from the captain to the smaller young woman on the couch beside her, who nodded in agreement with disappointment evident in her eyes.

"Did you get hit on?"

"More times than I could count from my seat." The white haired youth muttered as he went to lean on the wall, then thinking it over better and allowing himself to slide down to sit on the floor.

"You were keeping track?" Brows rising to her hairline, Rukia blinked in surprise as she angled herself to better face him when he spoke.

Aquamarine orbs were slowly revealed beneath a heavily lidded gaze as he allowed his head to fall back onto the wall. "Did you really think I was just sitting there the whole time drinking, waiting for your signal? You were hit on by more than enough guys, two possible lesbians, and the very rich bar owner."

"REALLY?" Before Rukia could realize what was going on, her well endowed companion pinned her down and looked at her with wide excited eyes that gleamed dangerously. "What did he look like? Was he older? Was he hot?"

"Well," Rukia said, wincing as she tried to squirm away from the iron grip on her shoulders, "he was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes."

She swallowed then, a pink tinge going onto her cheeks as she smiled to herself slowly. "Yeah, he looked to be about late twenties, and I guess. . . he was good looking too."

A squeal and then she was encased again in a suffocating hug with a melody of thrilled giggles in her ear. "Look at you, you little cougar! You're more dangerous than I thought!"

"She was just playing the part, Matsumoto, nothing else." The two women looked up at Toushiro, Rangiku noting the strange flash that passed in her captain's eyes when they met with Rukia's. Slowly his head fell back to meet the wall and he took to pinching the bridge of his nose as he frowned tiredly with closed eyes. "She's not seeing that human again."

That wasn't a question or even a suggestion—it was a full out order.

A moment of silence in which Rukia swallowed audibly, unsure as to how to read the comment. "Of course not, sir."

From the table Ishida momentarily stopped sewing, catching Ichigo's eye and raising a thin brow. Orihime simply sipped at her cup of milk, gray eyes flicking between her guests in curiosity.

"You still have his number don't you?" Rangiku said, a smirk on her features as she waggled her eyebrows suggestively and poked the younger woman.

"Well-"

"Call him!"

"But Matsumoto-san-"

"You said he was hot, didn't you? Oh, come on what could one date-"

"Really Matsumoto-san," she said, now nervously glancing back at Toushiro and noting how he was becoming irritated, "I don't think that would be-"

"Aw, Kuchiki-san what could _possibly_ be the harm in-"

"**She told you no**, Matsumoto." Was the dangerous growl from behind them.

Immediately violet and baby blue eyes slid from each other to the prodigy on the floor, speechless—Rukia more confused than anything and Rangiku completely and openly taken aback at her captain's unexpected reaction.

"What are you staring at?" Hitsugaya asked with a scowl after an uncomfortably long moment of silence. "Come on, it's late, get back to Soul Society--that paperwork isn't going to do itself tomorrow morning." Getting up from his perch, he tried to ignore the strange looks he knew were being aimed at him from various corners of the large room. "Rukia, get some rest, it's only the first night. I'm going to need you sharp again tomorrow."

"Yes sir." Was the soft, immediate reply from the couch. Awkwardly the young shinigami disentangled herself from Matsumoto's now lax grip and turned to Ichigo expectantly, who was now packing up at the table and too tired to even begin wondering what the hell had just happened.

Giving him one last narrow-eyed warning, Rangiku got slowly off of the couch too and helped Chad pack his various school materials before walking the others to the door, hugging Rukia goodbye and wishing the three young men accompanying her a good night. Behind her, Orihime waved and offered her own sleepy farewell before the door could be closed behind them.

"Well, it's late so get yourself to bed, Inoue-san. We'll be turning in soon too."

"Alright, if you need anything, just let me know, ok?"

"Thanks, but don't worry about us, we'll be fine. Sleep well." Rangiku offered cheerily before hugging the young woman and watching her head down the hall to her room silently. Beside her, the captain of the tenth division stood restlessly.

She allowed a moment of quiet for the emptiness of the room to sink in before, without turning to face him, she went to once again sit on the couch and turn on the television at a soft volume. The glow illuminated her sharp features in the darkness of the living room, eyes glowing an ethereal blue and face wise in all its sudden peace.

"You like her."

It wasn't a question, not even remotely as he came to sit beside her and frowned at the direct approach. On the battlefield it was always something he had admired and even thanked the gods for, but here, in settings much more _diverse_ than that it wasn't quite as welcome.

"It's not like that." Was the answer after a momentary hesitation.

But was it?

If anything it irritated him to know that his lieutenant could pin something down (as ludicrous as the idea was) and be able to understand it before he could—especially when it _involved_ himself. Yes, she had noticed his strange actions, but it all fell back to the same question from before:

_Was it that he actually liked Rukia Kuchiki?_

She was tolerable, at times way too naive, at others proud enough to get on his nerves, and every single time a person that demanded his respect both as a woman and simultaneously as a shinigami. She was intelligent—enough that it sparkled in her gaze whenever she spoke, and there was no shadow of a doubt in her voice whenever there was something on her mind.

She could stand on her own two feet.

"I think you're wrong, Hitsugaya-taichou." Really, he hadn't noticed when the television had taken to filling in the pregnant stillness between them until his lieutenant's voice broke through the monotony of the background noise, a single hand coming up to tuck a lock behind her ear as a pink tongue darted out to lick at her lips in thought.

"She's different from anyone I've ever met." Was the slow, careful reply as Rangiku gradually turned to face him. His brow was furrowed and teal orbs were staring deeply at the screen but obviously seeing way beyond the trappings of the television, the light dancing and making the flecks of light green flicker in his gaze. "I respect her for that."

He didn't notice the soft smile, didn't even catch the way her eyes glittered with knowing as she turned to the control in her lap with mirth she tried to hide.

"I see."

It was left at that until he finally decided to turn in, muttering a goodnight to her (after a halfhearted order to go home) and left her sitting there to her own thoughts for a few moments as she turned off the television.

It was more than "like," she concluded with a rising grin as she went to raid the fridge before her departure. It was more than simple respect for someone, more than just the tiny bits of effort he put forth that Toushiro Hitsugaya was notorious for doing for _no one_.

Eyeing the strange salad in a corner of the fridge, she didn't hesitate to take it out and grab a fork from a nearby drawer before unceremoniously stabbing the leafy concoction and shoving a forkful in her mouth.

Toushiro Hitsugaya, captain of the tenth division was _beyond_ liking Rukia Kuchiki.

Chewing thoughtfully, she swallowed slowly, forgetting the salad momentarily in her grasp as she stared hard at the fridge door, silverware hovering over the large bowl cradled in her opposite arm.

_That's it!_ Was her thought as Rangiku set down the fork on the counter and opted to pluck a piece of lettuce and pop it into her mouth.

Love was a bit of a stretch. . . . But at the very least, her shrimp of a captain was damn well on his way-- Rangiku Matsumoto would be willing to bet the last of her sake on it, so concrete and evident the idea was in her mind.

The grin on her features was so large that she felt that her face might split from the excitement as she hurriedly stuffed one more handful of the salad (were those anchovies?) into her mouth, flinging the fridge door open and stuffing the bowl back inside. To say Matsumoto had run out of the apartment would have been an understatement as she bolted for the grassy field where she had set up her Senkai gate, mind awhirl with ideas, schemes, and what-if implications to the new situation at hand.

Even still, with all of the things prancing merrily around in her skull, one recurrent thought kept coming up time and time again like a charming little melody:

_It's about time!_

**

* * *

**

Needless to say, Toushiro was flustered from his little conversation with his lieutenant to the point where he lay in bed for nearly two hours before finally being able to fall into a restless sleep.

So really, after much consideration of the impact of Matsumoto's words (as ridiculous as they were) it shouldn't have surprised him at all to fall into a dream so easily.

There was the club from that night and Rukia in her undercover (the irony) outfit and smiling at him, moving past Jhonny with a soft brush of her arm against the stranger's shoulder, eyes smoldering with a challenge.

_Can you catch me?_

Toushiro didn't hesitate.

Inside his mind were frantic thoughts, curses flung mentally at the young woman testing him with a smile rivaling that of the infamous Mona Lisa. He ducked, shoved people, ran after her with all the might his gigai could muster, at one point realizing they were no longer on the second floor, had instead somehow weaved their way through throngs and onto the VIP lounge, up until he nearly cornered her at the bar and then she smiled, weaving deftly past his grasping hands and leaving him with the mocking scent of lavender and a light laugh like the gentle sound of bells.

Now, a couple angry faces later and he was getting desperate, was furious at the mind games and her ability to crumble his ego in her small hands—the way she whimsically took his cleverness and blew it sky high, leaving him with nothing to show for it but the painful realization that he needed to make her pay for what she was doing to him.

"RUKIA!" There and then gone, the flash of neon lights on silk and she disappeared once more behind the corner of an employee hall, the captain following without hesitation.

Sprinting, weaving deftly left and right and once even managing to dodge the surprised flinging of a drink at his rude shove, watching with cerulean eyes as the colorful concoction sloshed high in beautiful arcing waves that undulated and glittered with the crystal light of crushed ice.

Time sped up again and the world began to spin at normal pace as he sharply turned the corner where he had last seen her, only to come to a screeching halt.

The hall was empty.

There was _nothing_ there.

Frustration fueled the trembling of clenched fists and a locked jaw, teeth grinding together as sharp narrow eyes took in the area with disbelief and anger. This was beyond stupid, was a waste of time when they should be concentrating on the mission, should be doing what they had come to do so that he could go back home where _things made sense_.

Then he heard her laugh.

It was honest, a pure sense of joy that appeared on her features as he turned on his heel to face her. Before he could utter a word, could even begin to muster up the anger he had felt just moments ago, all thoughts were derailed by her petite hands grabbing for one of his own and then turning him so that they went down the hall together.

"Rukia, where the hell are we-"

_Shh. _

A slim finger to pink lips and she offered him a mischievous grin, violet eyes sparkling with happiness as they continued down the suddenly mile long corridor. It didn't really occur to him to be confused at the time, too enraptured by the hands clasping his own to realize much of anything else. If Matsumoto caught them like this, he thought with a frown, this would surely fuel her theory.

Then there were people.

Voices he hadn't noticed before came to life around him, conversations weaving together seamlessly to create a cacophony of white noise to his already befuddled mind. Still, Rukia continued forward in the corridor, weaving easily between groups and even diving under a man handing a woman a drink as if it was the most normal thing to do—so he followed.

For what seemed like an eternity they continued like that until he couldn't help it anymore and forcefully tugged on her hands so she would turn. A sudden stop and she swiveled sharply to face him, eyes innocently wide and blinking at him beneath long black lashes, back twisted in such a way that he could see the sensual curving of her back and the way her small hips jutted out just so.

Toushiro swallowed.

"W-where are we going, Rukia?"

The chatter all around them suddenly stopped.

Looking up in surprise, it took him a moment to realize that Rukia's hand was no longer in his own and she was running again, laughter his only clue to her path.

A string of expletives and immediately the chase began again.

Running, towards where he had no idea and would've been lost had it not been for the hand that suddenly shot out from his left and gave his shirt a good tug, effectively pulling him into a small corridor he hadn't noticed before.

She was quiet.

This time when Rukia stepped backwards with a pale hand still grasping his shirt, she did so slowly, eyes never leaving his own and reflecting something that he couldn't quite place except for the fact that it was sending a strange thrill through his system.

Suddenly her hand fisted and she was pulling him closer.

It literally knocked the wind out of him when she crushed her lips to his own, all muscles immediately going stiff with the onslaught of contact. Her warmth sent a dizzying fire through his system, hands immediately drawn to the small of her back and a low purr escaping his throat before he could even realize it was his own. She was kissing him senseless and there was absolutely nothing he could do but let her, his own limbs taking a life of their own and a wall suddenly behind her as he grabbed the nape of her neck tenderly and forced her face up towards his, leaning into her petite form and effectively blocking any form of movement past him.

Her hands, dear gods, those hands were sliding slowly up and down his chest, finding their own way around his neck and letting him know she was enjoying it just as much as he.

_"Toushiro." _

Her voice was deep with a desire mimicked in his heavy breaths as he dazedly turned down to look at her and then—

He woke up.

If there had ever, _ever_ been a time when he wanted to really just take his sword to his own body, it had been then as he lay there, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand and growling in frustration. Dragging tan hands over his aggravated features, Toushiro sat up and tried to rub at his eyes roughly, attempting futilely to erase the vivid dream from the back of his lids where it was constantly replaying in shadowed fragments, where he could almost _feel_ her hands skimming over his skin gently.

No more vodka. No more alcohol, no more offhand drinking **ever again**. By no means in his long shinigami life would he _ever_ allow a drop of such a toxin to enter his bloodstream _again_.

Because those small hands, those soft lips, the way her hair brushed past his cheek—

_STOP IT!_ He wanted to bellow at himself as he tugged at his white hair with tightly clasped fists, _NO MORE!_

A shower, yes, that was exactly what he needed—a very long and cold shower. Glancing over at the bedside clock informed him it was a little past eight and definitely a time when Orihime would already be at school, leaving him alone in the apartment and with plenty of time to wash away whatever other strange things were invading his head.

With that thought in mind he immediately swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, sheets long ago discarded in his haste to erase everything from his head and the world momentarily spinning as he blinked profusely.

This, this was the end of it all. The mission, all his stress, every little crevice of his mind that had been taken up by "have-to-do's" and "should-do's" were beginning to bleed together and the constant pressure was too much—that _had_ to be it. The alcohol had just been a bridge for those things to mesh and send him into such a whacked out and . . . . and. . .

Well. . . _good_-

No, nonononono! NOT good dream—a _nightmare_ in fact. Yes, a very vivid and _pleasurable_—

Nightmare! It was a **nightmare**!

Frantic movements, the throwing of a towel, stripping quickly before without a second thought allowing the water to run off of his skin and send a shock that almost turned him numb with the cold. The water did wonders for him once he allowed the chill to take over, sighing contentedly when the cool droplets touched his feverish skin. He would've stayed like that for at least a good hour or two had it not been for the fact that it wasn't his home, and surely Orihime would be the one to end up paying the water bill later (if she didn't have a heart attack first).

So coming to a compromise, he stayed in the shower for thirty minutes (of which twenty consisted of just standing there) at one moment looking down at his fingertips and noting idly that the skin had wrinkled, pruned by the onslaught of water upon his body.

As he stepped out of the shower and onto the plush rug toweling himself off, Toushiro allowed his toes to scrunch, enjoying the feeling of the soft fibers between his digits in the silent bathroom.

He took his time to dress.

It wasn't until he stared up at the mirror, staring at his reflection calmly now that he realized that there were things he needed to prioritize while standing there adjusting the white collar of the gray polo.

One: He needed to rethink the strategy they were taking to lure out their target so that he could use the last few days of their mission to try and relax.

Two: There had to be some way to tighten down the whip on Matsumoto—she was literally going to be the end of him with her little random speeches and whatnots she was prone to do. Plus the fact that she never did her work always added to his tensions as well.

And three: . . . was there a three?

There was a momentary hesitation as he ran a hand through the white tufts of his hair and frowned in sudden thought, the reflection across from him mimicking his reaction.

Actually yes, there was technically a three: avoid Rukia until he could calmly face her without having an assault of . . . well, _certain images_ in his head.

With that final thought in mind he swung the door of the bathroom open, bundle of clothes and towel in hand as his eyes fell to the figure on the couch and he froze at the threshold.

Large violet eyes stared up at him unabashed over one shoulder, Rukia getting up and offering a cheery but formal good morning as she smoothed down the skirt of her white sundress.

"Figured you haven't had breakfast yet, sir, so I was wondering if you would like to go eat with me?"

Well. . . . there went number three.

He couldn't stop staring, really he couldn't. Transfixed aquamarine orbs followed her lips as she spoke but gathered nothing that poured forth from them, brow furrowed but otherwise offering no reaction as she tilted her head and her own brow wrinkled in worry after she realized that he seemed rooted to the spot.

"Hitsugaya-taichou?"

Dear gods it was going to be a damn long day.

**

* * *

**

How many times she had attempted to make the captain talk, Rukia didn't know.

They had walked to a nearby restaurant where she insisted on treating him to breakfast, after which she took to try and coax an order out of him after half an hour of sitting in the booth and sending the waitress away three times. It wasn't like the place was shady or anything, what with its quaint little private booths and the large glass front displaying the curly lettering of "_Auntie Miki's_" proudly across it. The place wasn't exactly swarming with people but it wasn't empty either and the atmosphere was calm, inviting even with all its little western country charm.

Purposefully, the black haired shinigami ordered something neither of them had heard of—something called pancakes. Hers with chocolate chips (quite the addicting morsel, this chocolate of the real world) and his with strawberries. It wasn't until the plates were set down in front of them that she finally was able to get any sort of reaction on his features.

"What the hell is this?" They were strange disk shaped things that looked like bread, topped with pieces of strawberry, sauce, and a frill of some white cream. Glancing over at hers, he noted the drizzle of deep brown liquid and the dots scattered in hers.

"Mine have chocolate." She replied, sweeping her fork over the plate to encompass the whole of the stack of three—"yours have strawberries and strawberry sauce on them. Sorry, they didn't have anything watermelon flavored on the menu."

It wasn't until then that his gaze met hers and she realized that that was the first time today he had made an effort to address her directly.

"How do you know watermelon is my favorite fruit?"

Taking the knife in one hand and fork in the other, Rukia put most of her concentration on cutting through the fluffy pancakes with much care, glancing up at him briefly with a half smile. "You seemed to really enjoy that popsicle yesterday. Plus I've seen Matsumoto on several occasions running through Rukongai frantically looking for a watermelon to bribe you with after a long night with the bottle."

His gaze seemed concentrated on her hands as she methodically continued to eat, his own stack momentarily forgotten in front of him. "You'd think she'd try to get a little more creative with her methods after the first try."

Swallowing, Rukia tilted her head slightly as she grinned. "But why change something that always works?"

"I never said that it did."

"So then seeing her chasing down the same vendor several times a month has nothing to do with it?"

He shrugged, sighing heavily before beginning to work on the plate before him.

"So what do _you_ like then?" Popping the small piece into his mouth, Rukia watched discreetly as he allowed himself to take in the flavor of the bite, accepting it with a slight relaxing of his brow and indifference in his eyes—at least he didn't hate it. "Lemme guess—" he said after swallowing, "strawberries."

There was a frown on her features as she eyed him strangely, fork hovering midway to her mouth.

"Why would you say that?" He nearly choked on the next piece of pancake in his mouth when he realized what he had said, and even more when the fact that she was asking for an explanation was why she was looking at him directly.

An image of Ichigo flashed in his mind but he didn't allow that to show on his features as he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "you ordered my pancakes with strawberry. Usually subconsciously people use second choices as suggestions for friends."

Totally made up, but the botched attempt was better than bringing the substitute shinigami into the picture. Why that was, he didn't want to even begin wondering about.

Raising an incredulous brow, Rukia seemed to mull it over for a moment before she flicked away a strand of hair and finally turned back to him, chewing thoughtfully on some of her food before she finally nodded her consent. "Makes sense in general I guess, but no, that's not why I ordered strawberry for you, sir."

"Hitsugaya-san." He corrected, looking around to make sure no one had heard her.

"Hitsugaya-san." She said with a sigh.

"So then you ordered this for me because. . . ? What if I didn't like strawberry?"

A slight narrowing of violet eyes gave away the fact that she wasn't exactly understanding the situation, wasn't exactly _used_ to all the question over the most minute of her actions, and that this coming from someone as usually silent as the captain of the tenth division was even harder to believe.

"If you didn't like strawberry I would've switched with you." Was the slow reply before she took a sip of her cup of milk. "As for why, I figured it was the closest thing to watermelon, and it was the least of the sweetest things offered on pancakes."

Her logic made sense in a quirky sort of way—he liked it.

"What _is_ your favorite fruit?" He finally asked, taking another bite and watching her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

The white haired youth was switching topics on her faster than she could try to make sense of them. A momentary silence in which she tried to read him, and then her answer was a slight shrug.

"I'll try anything once. But in general, fruit-wise I like mango." At his questioning gaze, she answered, "It's an exotic fruit from another country. Chad let me have some a while back."

"Oh."

She took one bite, and then another, and soon they were both eating in silence, the waitress the only breaking of the quiet between them when she came to ask them how they were doing. With an enthusiastic reassurance from Rukia, the woman slipped away again and left them to their own devices—more or less to the petite shinigami woman sneaking glances and trying to figure out her superior's strange behavior, of which she came to no sound conclusion even after an hour in his presence.

"Well," she said once they had finished and she had paid, "I guess you would like to go back to Orihime's now?"

Toushiro shrugged.

"You have something planned?"

"No, not really. I was just going to go on Hollow patrol while I was here—figured it would kill some time, and help me train a bit since Ichigo and the others are in class right now. I really didn't feel like going today with them." A grimace, and she turned away from him.

Sighing, teal orbs watched as she ran a hand behind her neck with closed eyes, tilting it back and forth and wincing.

"Couldn't sleep well?"

"Not really. Don't know why, but this mission gives me a really bad feeling and it made me restless the whole night after we got back." Raising a white brow, Toushiro glanced sideways at her as they crossed the street and continued, well aware of the strange looks they were getting (what were two middle schoolers doing out so early?).

Honestly, he didn't know what to answer—so he didn't.

When they made it back to Orihime's apartment they both quickly changed to shinigami, Rukia taking obvious delight as she jumped up effortlessly onto the roof and closed her eyes with a content smile as the warmth of the sun fell on her delicate features.

Overall the afternoon went well enough, Toushiro leaving most of the kills to Rukia and simply sitting nearby as he watched her work, yelling pointers offhandedly at her back whenever she made a mistake. She seemed enthusiastic enough to take everything on, not once taking out her shikai to fight—something that surprised the captain, who figured someone with her skill set would gladly show off. Nonetheless, it seemed the young Kuchiki was always full of surprises, never failing to impress, and managed to fight mostly with her sword as opposed to her method of choice with kidou spells.

It settled him into a rhythm he could deal with, allowing his own mind to wander and making sure periodically that she could handle the situation without much damage. In total they managed to get four small fry after a few hours, after which he almost had to drag her away from another potential fight reminding her that she would be needed later that night.

With one final nod of consent, Rukia sheathed her sword and followed the captain back, offering a smile and a wave of parting as she began turning to head over to Ichigo's to freshen up and take a nap before anyone of the Kurosaki family could show up. Toushiro offered (more like tried to force her) into allowing him to escort her, insisting on her safety as their bait—to which she vehemently refused. Eventually they ended up coming to a compromise and settled on him walking her halfway, Rukia annoyed as she walked behind him but otherwise not offering any comment on the matter.

Once she finally made it to Ichigo's, her shower was short and full of thoughts of possible problems the captain could be facing. And being the logical creature she was, Rukia didn't rule out the possibility of the problem being her—as a hindrance, as something maybe that he just couldn't stand—which was part of the reason she didn't offer any suggestion as to make him stay with her for company or ask him to go with her Hollow hunting in the first place. Needless to say the surprise had been on her when he offered to stay and even gave her advice on what she needed to work on. And as harsh and blunt as his comments were, Rukia couldn't be any more thankful for him taking the time to help her—it wasn't something required of him and she was at least humble enough to be thankful for him being honest with her as she had fought.

After the shower and quick dressing (post-kicking Kon out of the room) the young Kuchiki noblewoman sighed heavily and took to organizing both her thoughts and her things, making sure not to leave a trace of her presence anywhere in the house other than her small closet.

She made sure to grab everything for the mission—the clothes, make-up, shoes, and other knick knacks and pack them in a small bag that she placed in the corner of her bedding, telling Kon to make sure and wake her in two hours. It only took her a moment to realize that Kon being Kon would probably just go right ahead and fall asleep next to her, and so then she just frowned and stole Ichigo's alarm clock, resetting it to the proper time she required and setting the device at the foot of her makeshift bed next to the bag in her dark closet.

Maybe after relaxing a bit, after allowing the thoughts to just settle, it might all be that much clearer when the time came to address the oddity that was their situation. . .

For now, all she could do was try and relax and hope for the best.

**

* * *

**

"There's no way I'm wearing this." Lifting his arms to emphasize the outfit, Toushiro aimed his glare at his cooing vice captain and their current hostess.

"But taichooou, it looks so _sexy_ on you!" She gushed, literally skipping up to him and turning him so he could look at his reflection in the mirror. Her chin was propped on his shoulder, grinning as she nodded in enthusiasm. Of course her return to the human world would be imminent (and quite punctual) since today would be the day Toushrio and Rukia both wore the outfits they had spent all morning yesterday getting.

It was nothing excessive really, but he felt out of place wearing it nonetheless. The black button down shirt was comfortable, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the inside of the cuffs a striped gray and white pattern that appeared on all the other trimmings of the shirt. The designs were, he had to grudgingly admit, quite fitting. On his back was a curling white dragon with a mouth open in a furious roar, the body coiled around an ornately stitched cross.

His dark denim pants were baggy and allowed for ease of movement should need be, matching gray sneakers adorning his feet. Nonetheless, the white belt easily had to be his favorite feature, hanging off his waist slightly with three chains that hooked to his back pocket where his cell phone had been stashed.

It was definitely _nothing_ like his simple outfit from yesterday—the grey polo and black jeans.

"Just think of this as a chance to play dress-up!" Brows furrowing, he scowled at her reflection.

"This is an important mission, Matsumoto, I'd doubt they would have a captain doing this-"

A knock on the door and Orihime scurried away with their eyes on her retreating back. When she returned, Ichigo waved at him, Ishida following closely behind with a polite nod in his direction.

"Ready?" Ichigo asked, eyeing the outfit and grinning. "Rukia's waiting for you in the living room."

They didn't even note Rangiku's disappearance until she shoved past them all and back into the room, excitement on her features. "Ne, Ishida-kun, you did wonders with Rukia-chan!"

Were those stars in her eyes?

Her hands were clasped by her cheek as she bounced from foot to foot, gushing about the other woman who was currently in the living room. Ishida pushed up his glasses, shoulders squaring as he puffed his chest out with pride and began to explain how he had chosen everything out for her (even though she had been right there with him).

A timid knock silenced everyone as Rukia poked her head in.

"Is Hitsugaya-taichou ready?"

"Yes, yes! Come on, don't be such a stick in the mud, let's see!" And without allowing her the chance to protest, Matsumoto took hold of the small woman's arm and yanked her into the room, everyone's eyes instantly falling on her and the room falling utterly silent in awe.

He couldn't. . . .

For the first time in his life, Toushiro Hitsugaya, young prodigy and captain of the tenth division of Sereitei could honestly and completely say he was speechless. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't tear his wide eyes away from her—he couldn't move. It was like being in that dream and subconsciously he took a step back in fear she might actually do what her doppelganger had, snapping out of it when he felt more than heard Hyourinmaru's snicker in his head.

"Oooh, you're so adorable Rukia!" Orihime quickly hugged her, breaking the momentary spell as Matsumoto and her chattered excitedly, poking at different parts of the outfit.

"I want to see a three-sixty!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Orihime yelled, giggling as Rangiku grabbed Rukia's hand and raised it in a sweeping motion, forcing the black haired young woman to turn slowly with feeble protests.

The halter top was daring to say the least, the slit going down to her belly button and revealing the whole of the gentle curve of her back. Three chains kept the two sides of the front together, dangling teasingly between the curves of her breasts and twinkling in the light. The two ties were done in a bow at the nape of her neck, loose ends dangling in the small dip of her spine.

Dear gods, did silk _ever_ look good on her.

It was a deep plum that rivaled that of night, bringing out her violet eyes beautifully. The skirt was short and went to about midthigh, revealing creamy legs that she obviously wasn't comfortable revealing so much of and her low heels were open toed, secured with black ribbons that coiled up her leg until mid-shin where they tied off in the back in small bows.

The stubborn strands he grew used to seeing loose were all gathered into a tiny side ponytail that was mostly hidden by a large flower, bangs falling but not long enough to hide the lengthy silver earrings with mauve feathers that brushed against her bare shoulders.

It made her look beautiful, magnifying the effect of her baby-face features to a degree that left her doll-like.

Hoping beyond all hope that no one had caught his reaction, the captain frowned slightly to regain his composure.

"D-Don't you think that's a bit. . . excessive?"

Did he just stutter?

Immediately the others turned to him, Matsumoto even daring to look aghast at the suggestion. For a moment he noted a pained look on Rukia's features, but that was quickly wiped clean as she subtly crossed her arms over her chest shyly, realizing suddenly just how many males were in the room.

"You think we didn't do our homework, Hitsugaya-san?" Ishida's sudden intrusion surprised them, but that didn't distract him as he turned on the small captain.

"We studied every woman's file, every detail that was a common link between all of them. . . what you see here-" He lifted a hand to indicate Rukia's outfit- "Is everything our target liked in women. The fact that Kuchiki-san can pull it off so beautifully only adds to our chances to catch whatever it is preying on these girls. I'm just glad we didn't use this yesterday, or it would've been our trump card down the drain."

Sighing, Toushiro pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What you don't seem to understand is that by making her bait for that _thing_, we're also throwing her to the sharks."

Rangiku raised an eyebrow then, turning to him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But taichou, that's why you're there."

And try as he might, he couldn't deny it.

Somehow the conversation started turning again and the others slowly trickled out of the room and into the living room where Orihime had already set snacks on the table. Rukia was standing there, staring out the door in deep thought for a moment as the white haired young man hesitated beside her.

"Are you going to be okay in that?"

Quick violet eyes flicked to him then, momentarily surprised at his sudden proximity and the fact that she had forgotten he was in the room still as well.

"It's only for one night." Was her uncertain reply, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she allowed her eyes to stray once again past the threshold. Whether it was more to reassure herself or him, Toushiro wasn't quite sure.

"I'm sure we could find something else. . ."

"I'll be fine sir, don't worry about me. I'm just really starting to believe Matsumoto-san would've been better suited for this job." A wry grin and then she quietly slipped out of the room before he could even begin to fathom an answer.

They didn't stay for long (barely touched the snacks), calling the cab once ten o'clock hit and waiting a mere fifteen minutes for it to appear. As the two shinigami were walking down the stairs, the captain caught the slight shiver of his partner and didn't hesitate in slipping off his coat, putting it on her shoulders as she stopped mid-step in surprise.

"Keep that on until we get there."

"I-"

"That's an order." Was the gruff reply as he avoided her gaze.

Swallowing, Rukia dipped her head in a slight nod. "Yes, Hitsugaya-san."

The images Toushiro had tried so hard to keep out of his mind kept coming in random flashes as he stared out his window, well aware of the young woman sitting a few feet away from him as he closed his eyes and allowed his forehead to touch the cool of the car window's glass.

Between the hum and vibrations of the vehicle, their melding sounds became a sort of melody that lured him into a meditative state, calming him and clearing away all thoughts of anything past the motions of the car. Time seemed to slip away then, soothingly almost as he fell into a state neither awake nor fully asleep beside Rukia and his clenched hands relaxed in his lap.

"Do you think. . . we'll find him there?" The voice that broke through his trance was soft, resonating with genuine worry and sadness at the thought of the pictures of the victims they had seen.

How long had she been torturing herself with the memories of those young women? Her delicate brow was furrowed, face flickering with the passing of each streetlamp by her window and the darkness making her eyes two ethereal pools of violet in the shadows.

"There's no guarantee." Observing her silently, Toushiro tried not to feel bad for offering the harsh truth instead of a lie. She was after all, a shinigami and he an unwavering captain—he respected that status enough to give her the real scope of the situation at hand.

Her eyes lowered not in melancholy but in thought then, pink glossed lips settling into a grim line and the coat around her shoulders held firmly by the lapel between thin graceful fingers.

"If another girl dies under my watch, I'll never forgive myself." She whispered then. Through the window he could see his frowning reflection and the glimmer in her eyes when she met his gaze indirectly.

"This is no one's fault, Rukia."

"That doesn't matter, they deserve the chance to live."

"As stupid as they are sometimes." He muttered under his breath.

"Agreed." Rukia replied with a crooked grin.

It didn't take them much longer in the cab then, ten minutes later arriving once again at the club and making their way confidently to the third floor (straight through the stairs this time for the sake of not having a repeat of yesterday) and so they each settled at their prearranged places.

It took merely an hour into it for Toushiro to already glare down three men who he _knew_ only wanted to get up his partner's skirt. Somehow, the very idea angered him all of a sudden, leaving him seething as his fingers tightened their grip on the tall cool glass of beer. Men could be such a dirty lot sometimes, having no discipline over themselves whatsoever and making the rest of them look like slobbering fools.

Bunch of human idiots.

He hoped their target had guts—there were a few frustrations that were beginning to pile up and really any sort of excuse would be delightful right about now to pull out his sword. This little game of hide and seek was way beyond his short temperament, and it was soon going to blow if something didn't happen.

One hand was holding the glass and the other was flexing in anticipation for a fight he wondered would even come. Inside, he could feel Hyourinamru's growl of annoyance. Sitting there, he almost missed the arrival of another beside him, waving away the blonde bartender politely.

"She yours?" Straight to the point and unafraid—he didn't like this guy already. Giving him the once over, Toushiro noted his deep maroon hair and slate grey eyes as he slid into the bar stool beside the shorter man, gesturing with a jerk of his head towards Rukia a few stools down.

He was lean, obviously not like some of the other bar patrons who were beyond drunk and had not seen a day of physical exertion in their life, waving around like imbeciles to the beat of some obnoxiously loud tune. A well kept man with simple clothing—button down silk shirt to match his hair, black slacks, and a single thin silver chain around his neck accenting the smooth dip of his neck. He was sharp as well—had obviously picked up on the deadly aura Toushiro was exerting at any soul stupid enough to step close to his fellow shinigami that seemed too stupid to be their target after a quick reiatsu probe.

Swallowing hard, he couldn't understand why the answer was so hard to grate out.

"No."

"She looks like she can offer a decent conversation." A clench of his jaw, but otherwise the captain offered no reply as the other man slipped easily away to speak to the violet eyed young woman after ordering drinks for two.

He didn't want to watch. It bothered him to think that such a petite girl could do nothing were something to happen because it would put their mission at stake. But somehow he couldn't resist and he ended up glancing between the passing of other people—a thing that to this day he considered lucky. In the span of a single breathe Rukia's face suddenly changed everything: from the passive, polite look as she swiveled to face the newcomer to one that instantly told him something was about to go wrong.

The sound her glass made as it fell from her slack grip was muffled out by the reverberating noise of the music below as wide violet eyes fell upon the man before her, face pale and in open shock. People passing then, laughing, joking drunkenly, and Toushiro dove against the counter to catch a glimpse of the shinigami a few bar stools down.

A single name slipped from her lips that he could just barely make out from his perch, the sound of her voice lost long before it could reach him.

"_Ashido."_

Instantly he got up, leaving his drink and making sure to not lose them as he weaved through the throngs of people milling around the main bar counter. But then a girl laughed and brushed past him, taking his eyes away for only a second before he turned back to his destination and froze in horror.

The barstool Rukia had just occupied was empty.

They were gone.


	9. When My Heart Is Split Like Rio

**A/N: **Sorry so sorry! ;; Been so busy lately that I've only had small in between chances to work on this here and there. Nonetheless, somehow I went from about four pages to thirty-five! Ouch! XD I had such a hard time with this chapter, probably because I hate writing fight scenes. I suck at them, I won't lie. Lol. Either way, I tried my hardest so any complaints or criticisms, be gentle my duckies (and honest of course)! :3

**Song Inspirations for this chapter**:

Lhuna (Coldplay ft. Kylie Minogue)

Pyramid (Charize ft. Iyaz)

Take It All Away (Red)

Feel You (Crumbland)

Gettin' Over You (David Guetta ft. a bunch of people XD)

Find Your Love (Drake vs. Coldplay)

Washing Machine (Michelle Branch)

Holy cow, so much oddball music o_O Lol.

Enjoy and review guys :)

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

* * *

_

**When My Heart Is Split Like Rio I  
**

* * *

Precious seconds, ticking and making him hit the ground running in desperate search for violet eyes and black hair, for moon-kissed skin and the face of a woman who knew nothing of disgrace.

_Rukia, Rukia, Rukia._

Suddenly her name wasn't so hard to call out, wasn't as harsh as he thought it sounded prior to this moment, wasn't as sturdy and proud as before.

Running to the balcony, teal eyes greedily took in faces, hair, eyes, anything that could possibly resemble the small woman in the masses moving to some insane beat and constantly changing lights that only served to create shadows and further confusion. Whether it was his mind or the lights before him that sent his head awhirl he didn't know, slamming down an angry fist onto the railing and ignoring the stinging of his hand.

A search for her reiatsu would be useless here with her in a gigai, which could only lead him to two conclusions:

Either she saw no need to revert to shinigami form or she was already dead.

* * *

"Ashido I have to tell-"

"You here with a date?"

A moment of silence in which she frowned, eyes taking in his confident form and the way he easily led her up a discrete staircase she could barely recognize had it not been for the fire extinguisher with graffiti they had passed on the way up.

It was the only exit to the roof, if she recalled correctly, and a bad one at that with its terribly narrow corridor and steps littered with trash, with bottles of who knows what and the butts of one too many cigarettes that had seen better days and possibly the stories of more than one patron.

Walking like this in the shadows with wide eyes trying to make out the depth of the sudden on and off flickers of the naked bulb a few feet above their heads, it reminded her of a time when she had been staring at his broad back with the shimmer of a sky-less forest sun flickering through white trees—when the bony mask of a hollow protruded from a fur cape and stared at her blankly from large gaping eye sockets as she sidestepped an empty glass bottle.

"Well, no, but-"

"Then I'm sure you can grant me a moment, before we get interrupted."

She didn't know how to respond to that. Her heart was torn between duty and friendship as they finally reached the top, Ashido opening the door and allowing her a moment of hesitation. Much like a prisoner to condemnation her head lowered, ink black bangs falling over wary eyes as she wrapped pale arms around herself and stepped outside finally to the welcoming night air.

It was there that she chose to set her tiny clutch purse down against the brick, hoping it wouldn't get dirty.

The way his hand ghosted on her back sent a strange feeling down her spine and reminded her once again where and what she was doing—that she was a shinigami, that Hitsugaya-taichou was downstairs and probably beyond furious, and that once again she was laying her neck on the line for a friend (which, if she must be thoroughly and brutally honest with herself, was nothing completely new in her book of offenses).

If there was any attempt for Rukia to be stout and cold towards her companion, the fire immediately died upon letting her gaze rise to his own and noting still the smoldering flame that seemed impossible to quench in blue-grey irises, the light of the moon bathing them and making his eyes pools of liquid silver that shone brilliantly.

She couldn't—looking away took all her willpower to do, even now as she cleared her throat and squared tiny shoulders stubbornly.

"You have no idea how sincerely happy I am that you're back." A slight shrug, a sigh, and then without looking at him she turned towards the door once more and put a single hand on the frame noting silently how his still stubbornly held the doorknob. "But I don't have time right now. I'll talk all you want later but I'm here on a mission. I'm. . .I'm really sorry."

The pulse of the music vibrated under their feet as she stood there, eyes locked with his as her hand was gently pulled away from the door by strong fingers and he closed it with a light click. Rukia would be lying if she said she didn't feel anything in that moment in his grasp, didn't get a hitch in her breath or felt her heart flutter playfully like the wings of a newborn butterfly.

Bu then Ashido let her go and turned from her silently, leaving a reeling young woman standing there as he walked calmly out to the edge of the building with a light echo of expensive shoes, hands tucked into his pockets. The night was warm and cloudless, the moon a proud shining crescent overhead and his figure illuminated in a lonely silhouette that made her feel all the more guilty for the way she was treating him.

A slight scuffle of a sandal and thin fingers found themselves scraping against the rough surface of the doorway for leverage. Rukia looked back up to her companion for a moment before pushing off of the small structure with a sigh.

When she had come to lean on it she didn't know.

"I've been searching for you for a while and it's still hard for me to believe this sky is real." Sharp silver orbs looked out to the horizon silently, features not quite as harsh as she remembered them to be. A cool breeze flitted through the loose strands of his maroon hair and the urge of her twitching fingers to run through them was strong. Beneath the ripples of his shirt Rukia could see the toned silhouette he had hidden beneath robes and a fur cape—beneath a mask of indifference and somber isolation the last time she met him.

Smiling would suit him better, the petite shinigami mused.

"You brought back a little hope for me. . . I wanted to see you again to thank you." Turning to her, Ashido noted with soft amusement how her cheeks colored as she cleared her throat, hands coming to cross over her chest as she shrugged and allowed small fingers to curl into a light fist at her neck.

"You deserved the chance to go home again. I'm just sorry I couldn't do a better-"

He kissed her.

Whether she was more in shock at his ability to swiftly turn and grab her or the fact he was daring to. . .

To. . .

Her eyes fluttered slowly closed for a moment, unsure how to react as his hands drifted to the small of her back and pulled her closer to every curve of his body, to the feeling of abs toned through the sheer will to survive and a heartbeat as calming to her fingertips as the patter of rain on a gray afternoon.

His lips were soft against her own and she couldn't breathe, couldn't say she had any idea what to do because she hadn't kissed anybody in _nearly_ _a_ _hundred years_! To her relief he finally pulled away from her, foreheads touching intimately as her wide orbs fell on his half lidded gaze and she couldn't speak, couldn't find words that could make it past the lump in her throat as pink glossed lips fought for some form of intelligent speech.

"Thank you, Rukia."

Time stopped then, and suddenly the look in his eyes seemed reverent in a way that sent a thrill through her.

There, eye to eye her breath hitched and suddenly warmth bloomed from somewhere in her belly, hands coming up to cradle her torso as she hesitatingly drew her gaze away from his. Looking down in casual curiosity, in the back of her mind she wondered what this feeling was, why the world was unexpectedly spinning, and why she couldn't breathe (he wasn't _that_ good of a kisser!), hunching slightly now from the deep-rooted pain in her abdomen while Ashido simply stood there, a gentle smile on his features and a single hand pulling away from her body.

Her fingers felt wet as they curled.

_. . . what. . . ?_

"Go to sleep, little shinigami."

Violet eyes went up to his, Rukia's head tilting slightly in question as she fell to her knees and noted idly how his hand had a matching shade of red marring his skin.

_Blood. . . . _

Sleep, that was what she wanted, what her body screamed for even as the pain began to fight the shock that numbed her senses. There was hurting and the inability to speak, a hitched choking sound overtaking everything from Rukia's lips even as her mind slowly made the connection—a stab, _a stab_, that was what he'd done.

Ashido wanted to kill her.

Sleep, what she fought as she watched the shoes before her change to bare feet, to tiny delicate things that were followed by the rapid weaving much like the tangled webs of a spider into the simple folds of a plain kimono hem and to the kneeling woman before her.

"Hi-. . . .sa. . . "

* * *

"_You WHAT?" _Wincing, Toushiro pulled the phone away from his ear.

"He's around here somewhere and he's got Rukia. Pull in as soon as you can!" He yelled over the music.

"_I can't believe-" _Before Ichigo could go on another panic-fueled rant, the captain hung up on him and continued his search.

There were easily well over five hundred people in the area, of which he had to find just two. Slowly his mind began to run through possible scenarios (most bad), bringing him to the realization that he had to drop the gigai if he was going to get anywhere with this search without humans getting in the way.

The bathrooms were crowded and it took him forever to get past all the drunks and party goers he had to unceremoniously shove out of the way to get to a stall where he could revert into shinigami without disturbance.

After many protests from those in line and even a fight he nearly started, the captain finally got to the bathroom and managed to slam the door in a human man's face before pulling out the pill in his pocket.

Quickly instructing the substitute soul to wait for Ichigo downstairs, Toushiro finally headed out to the third floor again, searching the bar area once more to make sure he hadn't missed them before.

Being in a gigai was suffocating, he realized as he kept scanning the area. It was literally tailored to be human, so a shinigami's movements and actions were limited to the specifics of the temporary body. There were very few that actually were kept to house shinigami souls at regular level—of which Urahara kept three.

And of course, none of them at a price a regular (hell, even captain) shinigami could afford.

Either way, the sudden change back to his regular levels left him reeling a bit before he realized Hyourinmaru was stirring uneasily.

_I feel her._

Stopping in his tracks, Hitsugaya turned his full attention to the voice of his zanpaktou. How the hell could he feel the reiatsu of a woman in a gigai, especially when hers had been purposefully muted beyond even "spiritually low" level of a regular human?

_I wasn't searching for her. _

In his mind's eye he could see the back of a woman dressed in a white kimono, hair like liquid silver flowing in the wind and a light fog surrounding her figure. Before he could decipher more details, the image was gone.

_Sode no Shirayuki is above us._

Sharp eyes rose to note the roof of the building with a scowl.

He just hoped he wasn't too late.

* * *

There was a song she didn't know why she knew.

A hummed lullaby, light in the night sky as the woman held Rukia's head in her lap and played with the strands of hair that had long ago fallen out of her ponytail, the flower stained crimson by her companion's dark fingers.

Tears.

At first one, then followed by another and then a few as a slight, painful gasp was ripped from a mouth that was almost completely paralyzed by the toxin now fully in her bloodstream. The most she could do was twitch her fingers a little maybe and force herself to breathe—bare essentials even as she tried to weakly clench her jaw so that the blood now trickling from the corners of her lip wouldn't come anymore.

She wasn't stupid, she knew she didn't have long to live.

_A fool, Rukia Kuchiki. _

She mentally chided herself.

_You're such a fool. . . _

"You remember that song, don't you?"

Her eyes couldn't move, could barely blink even after fully putting her effort into it. Even with the gikongan pills in the purse she had left by the doorway, Rukia was well aware this poison was not something meant for the human body—it was targeting her soul self and surely it would kill her before she could come up with something to do—especially since the gigai only seemed to have sped up the process.

"It was your favorite lullaby." A twist of a little finger around ink black locks and then the feeling of cold knuckles running lightly on her jawline. "Don't pretend you don't remember, the memory is buried in your heart, sweetie. Why do you think I could show up so fully for you, my dear little sis-?"

The door slammed open a few yards behind them and Rukia could do little but stare out at the expanse in front of them, at the ledge that was within arm's reach and wondering if there was anything she could do for the poor human fools about to step into a slaughter fest.

"R-Rukia?"

She knew this voice—didn't know from where or when but it made what was left of her heart plummet.

_Run! _She wanted to yell at him, _please just go!_

Her doppelganger turned then, there, sitting with the gigai's head in her lap and looked at the white haired youth with a gentle smile.

"No, this wasn't Rukia. The eyes were softer, face a bit rounder, the strand coming down the middle of her face and splitting at her nose into two. The aura, the breath of reiatsu he got from her was weak but normal—nothing anything over a regular human would've had, and certainly none of the vibrant flame that was Rukia's.

This wasn't Rukia, so where. . .?

"Hi. . . sa. . . na. . ." Teal orbs widened then in realization and immediately Hyourinmaru was raised.

There was a puddle of blood around them and on the kimono—the blood of the body in the woman's arms.

Rukia's blood.

"Let her go." He snarled.

The rise of his reiatsu didn't faze the woman at all.

"You can't kill me." She turned momentarily back to the shinigami beside her and laid the woman down gently to the rough surface of the cement roof, fondly removing a strand of hair from Rukia's frozen, emotionless features and noting how the pupils were dilated as she concentrated desperately on the figure before her.

With a light smile she brushed away another tear.

Violet orbs went out of focus for barely a second before coming back and realizing it wasn't Hisana standing over her anymore, wasn't the one ghosting a touch over her cheek and she wished she could say more, could warn the person behind them but finding that no matter how desperate the attempt, she could do no more than lay there uselessly.

"Can you, Shiro-chan?" The voice was different then, higher pitched and more girlish sounding as Momo Hinamori turned slowly to face him with a playful smile.

It was _sick_.

The way her hair fell down loosely around demure shoulders, the grin and little giggle that made it to his ears and reminded him of younger days when Aizen hadn't even existed in their lives and she was nothing but a little girl that ran around Junrinan with his grandmother on errands, the innocent child he had tried to protect from reality.

"You twisted bastard." It was low, in pain even as the wound reopened in his heart and teal orbs narrowed dangerously into slits that glowed. Trembling hands made it hard to keep Hyourinmaru steady, hard to keep a level head even with Rukia nearly dead behind their target.

It made sense now, it _all_ made sense.

"I came for Rukia." Momo, calm nonplussed Momo, picked at her nails calmly before clasping her hands behind her back and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "I want to break Ashido from the inside out before he dies, and Rukia is the only way how."

A tilt of her head and then, "But breaking a captain of that place is always a plus too."

He barely had time to dodge the first strike of a claw. Still, his countering swipe was swift as he sidestepped a well aimed kick, glancing behind him to the woman lying in a steadily growing pool of blood.

"DON'T DIE ON ME, RUKIA!"

"Don't turn away Shiro-chan, you might miss something!"

And suddenly Momo was there grabbing his arm with an iron grip, nails extending into long talon-like claws that punctured through his shinigami robes and bit scathingly into tan skin. Gritting his teeth to stop the impending hiss, Toushiro didn't hesitate to rip his arm out of the woman's grasp and retaliate with a sharp jab from Hyourinmaru to gain some distance between them.

When he heard her cry of pain he couldn't help but hesitate and it tore at his heart to see her sitting on the ground, nursing a bleeding leg. Brown eyes were large, the corners cradling drops of unshed tears as she looked up at him with a pout.

"Shiro-chan, why did you hurt me?"

Even as he closed his eyes and tried to swallow with a suddenly bone-dry mouth, Toushiro tried to face her once again but found with quickly drowning bravery that he could do nothing but stand there, averting his gaze and trembling with frustration. He flexed his wounded arm slowly in the sudden silence, breathing more heavily from the sheer emotion than any exertion she had forced out of him.

_She's not real. She's not real, she's NOT REAL!_

"Look at me Shiro-chan! Don't just leave me here!"

The whimpering noises she made were a brutal reminder of the past, of the shadow in his heart and the way he used to yell at her to get up and stop being such a baby—something that he desperately wanted to do, regardless of if his voice revealed the pain of the action or not. Chapped lips closed before they could utter a sound, the familiar reproach swallowed and sinking his heart further.

But then his gaze fell on his partner. Her hair was splayed around her, ink fallen from a bottle knocked by a careless hand, the morbid halo of blood steadily growing around her figure and the blouse stained beyond any mend with the winking of jewelry on her left ankle catching the light of the moon like a heavenly shackle.

Even moments before her death she was graceful.

His good hand tightened around Hyourinmaru.

_I'm sorry you got pulled into this, Rukia._

He had to stop wasting time.

_I'm going to get you out of here, I swear it._

"You feel it yet, Shiro-chan?"

He wanted to wipe away the smile from her face, from the features that looked at him so happily. The captain was more than aware of the feeling weaving up his arm, of the pain that was beginning to set flame to his limb, noted outwardly only by the way he flinched slightly and the sudden clench of a strong jaw.

_Just hold on a little more for me please, Rukia._

It was poison.

"I don't like swords, they're a little too caveman for me." The white haired youth offered nothing but a fluid fall into a stance with Hyourinmaru glinting in the moonlight, mirroring the effect of the anklet on his partner's leg.

"You like it? I gave our little princess over there a bit of a higher dose than you, so her pain is probably magnified twenty times more than yours." Looking at her deformed hands, Momo's doppelganger licked at the end of her index finger, completely paying no heed to the reiatsu rippling around Toushiro or the resulting waves sending her own robes swaying in the sudden currents of power.

"You have no idea. . . " Brown eyes fell then lovingly to the talons and she smiled as if to a child. ". . .how _wonderful_ poison tastes when laced with blood."

This wasn't Momo.

It wasn't anything other than a monster taking advantage of him, of Rukia, of everyone who had something to regret in the past. Certainly his reasoning wasn't because his life could be on the line, or even Rukia's. More so than that he thought he owed it to the both of them as shinigami to protect what pride he could salvage from such foolish behavior on his part and his inability to have saved the young woman from such a painful path.

He had failed to protect her, to keep the promise he had made so arrogantly in front of Ishida and Matsumoto.

"_We'll catch him before he lays a single finger on you, Kuchiki."_

If he could just stay focused on that-the upturning of shy lips, small hands, the echoing voice that called his name in greeting—then Toushiro could say he had a purpose that would drive Momo away from the nightmare that was that moment.

_Rukia . . . _

**_Enough, enough of this foolishness._**

Hyourinmaru's defiant roar echoed in his soul down to his very bones.

"I said it once, and I'll say it again." The captain of the tenth division, the cold-hearted prodigy of Sereitei raised his sword then, grunting as he forced his poisoned arm to clench around the hilt for more stability in the grip trembling with barely suppressed fury. "You're one _sick_ **_bastard_**."

And he charged forward.

* * *

There were voices.

First one, then two, then countless different little melodies of screams, yells, shouts, whispers even, maybe even one or two calling to her directly there in the darkness of her crumbling inner world as she lay with her head on her zanpaktou's lap.

The sound of Sode no Shirayuki shifting, sitting calmly even with full knowledge of what had happened and offering a cool touch to her cheek, eyes glowing in the darkness like two gems of pure crystal blue. There was reassurance there, sadness, and even a bit of an apology that things had ended the way they had as the petite shinigami heard more than saw a cliff in the distance collapse on itself and begin to fade away into a million different shards of ice petals in the wind.

Rukia smiled.

"_I'm not afraid to die."_

Her zanpaktou smiled fondly then and in a motherly gesture cupped her master's face in her pale hands, leaning down to plant a kiss on the young woman's forehead.

"_Yes, Rukia-sama,"_ she called in a bell-like whisper, _"I know."_

"_. . . NO!. . . NO!. . . CAN'T. . . . ."_

They were far away now, the voices from before.

"_. . . planted . . . hated to. . . "_

Echoes maybe of the past, possible interactions of the future that would've been useful, Rukia didn't know and honestly failed to care for as blood seeped through her shinigami robes (because even in her mind death was nothing pretty and sane) and she allowed the ice to spread from her now numb fingers.

"_Does it hurt you at all?"_ Violet eyes strayed with worry to the woman cradling her and she noted with relief that Sode no Shirayuki's kimono was pristine and pure as snow, just as it had always been.

The zanpaktou tilted her head slightly as a small melancholic smile tugged her lips upward.

"_My death will be painless, Rukia-sama. Since I was not directly hurt in battle I won't feel anything. . . I'll just fade away." _A thick swallow and then the slight hum of approval was her reply.

"_I see." _

What little breaths she took were beginning to get more and more hitched, choking on her own blood as she lay there questioning when the depressingly familiar taste of the coppery liquid would go away.

There was no pain.

If she tried hard enough, she could make out a flash of orange, maybe even the ghosting of delicate fingers over her arms, or the sound of a voice that would've made her wince had it been any closer to her ears. Simultaneously there was a breeze and silence, the feeling of concrete beneath her and then the soft of the spirit's robes, the rough brush of a tear on her features that remained oddly stainless. It confused her and made Sode no Shirayuki fade in and out of her field of vision, sending a pang of fear through her.

She didn't want to die alone.

Her brow furrowed, she could feel it, even as she lay there nearly completely numb and searching for the spirit's touch of familiar cold.

"_I'm sorry."_ She told the frost that suddenly enveloped her, _"I'm sorry I couldn't be with you just a little longer."_

Long, silver hair flowed in a sudden whirlwind of shattered crystals, butterflies of destruction that twinkled ethereally in the light of a crescent moon and made Sode no Shirayuki glow as she raised a hand to her master's eyes.

"_Sleep."_ She commanded then, lowering a soft pale hand over Rukia's wide orbs and feeling the brush of long black lashes as the shinigami complied. _"Sleep, Rukia-sama."_

"_Okay."_

The last thing Rukia saw was her zanpaktou's smile.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

He didn't remember much after he nearly dealt the fatal blow.

There was her scream of frustration at suddenly being outnumbered, Ichigo's frantic yelling of Rukia's name as the young woman was scooped roughly into his arms, of him desperately yelling at the girl not to die on him, not to die because she still owed him money for the last chappy thing he bought her, and that he might just forgive her if she said she would be ok.

Of course there was no response but his own frantic cries as he took the stone he used on his own body and forcefully removed her battered spirit from the gigai.

Maybe the captain had called out something, screamed out Momo's name and run to her, he didn't really know. Maybe he had indeed raised his sword (certainly the moon shining on Hyourinmaru wasn't just a dream) and she had dodged, ever smiling, her loose bangs flowing in the wind and brown eyes soft, peaceful even as she raised her arms and allowed gravity to do the work for her when the small body of Momo Hinamori tilted over the ledge. Talons spread wide, it might've crossed his mind that it was an open invitation for him to stab her while she allowed herself to fall and coming to the agonizing conclusion that in the end he _hesitated_—that Hyourinmaru roared with fury at his sudden _cowardice_ as he was lowered to Toushiro's side.

There was the sound of shredding, of what felt like a tear in his soul as below the gaping eye of Hueco Mundo opened leisurely to stare up at him with dark judgement, the young woman's form falling gracefully and willingly into it. Uryuu tried to give chase (when he had appeared Toushiro didn't know), bumping past him roughly and firing arrows ahead only to watch them land below when he jerked to a stop at the high ledge.

A moment of hesitation in the shock of sudden silence and the deep of Ishida's questioning gaze fell to him, a flash of anger making them deep pools of wavering sapphire as he pushed up his glasses and scowled, for a moment regarding him with complete disapproval before turning instead to Ichigo and swiftly making his way over.

Toushiro was rooted to the spot.

Behind him he could hear as Uryuu took it upon himself to snap Ichigo out of his panic, bellowing at him to stop being an idiot and that since he was the fastest to run with Rukia to Urahara's.

"GO!"

The substitute didn't have to be told twice.

When Ishida turned to get her gigai was when the white haired youth finally returned if only for a moment to his sanity, swallowing thickly and barely mustering up enough courage to speak.

"No, don't take it. I'll do it."

Gloved fingers stopped in their reach of the fragile doll, eyes scrutinizing him darkly.

_The noble prince reaching for the princess. _

Somehow that thought didn't settle with him suddenly.

They regarded each other quietly for a moment before the quincy finally sighed, straightening slowly and stepping away.

"Very well."

Her gigai was quickly scooped into his arms, ashen, bloody and definitely broken beyond even Urahara's repair. The pseudo-blood didn't take long to seep past his robes and make the material stick to his clammy skin, violet eyes staring lifelessly up at the moon with lips and cheeks stained more red than pink and the peaceful smile tugging at her features sending a shiver down his spine.

This wasn't how she was supposed to die.

She _couldn't_ die like this.

She still had a lot to do for Soul Society, still had many achievements to reach, hollows to kill, powers to unleash and questions to answer. **Rukia couldn't die**, it was that simple. There were too many things that she probably had left undone—hadn't taken him back to get more ice cream, hadn't gotten him pancakes with maybe blueberry, or chocolate, or told him why such a small creature like her had survived so long in a hellish place like Inuzuri.

Why her zanpaktou looked the way it did.

It was effortless, catching up to Ichigo, and so when Urahara's home was finally in view he wasted no time in jerking the doors open to the shop and yelling for Inoue, who came bounding out barely a second later and crying out at the sight of the blood that decorated the small shinigami's body.

"Save her." Ichigo demanded, eyes dark with fear and sudden uselessness, "Save her, Inoue."

A blur again, Toushiro's world, and suddenly the gigai was gone but her blood was there and he had a towel twisted in his fingers, stains of his partner's fall and a reminder as he looked in the bathroom mirror that he had failed. It was as he was coming out that his own gigai made it to the shop, running past Ururu and Jinta to dive straight to the captain.

"Chappy-?" Worry. There was a total dis-inhibition, panic in deep pools of aquamarine that stared back at him as he was grabbed by the collar and slammed into a wall. "WHERE'S CHAPPY?"

"Chappy is fine." He snarled to his doppelganger, anger rising at the treatment. "She never made it into the gigai. The only one hurt was Rukia."

Immediately he was released, the mod-soul not bothering to hide the relief from his gaze as he swallowed thickly.

"I see."

When the two had become so attached he didn't know. But whatever feelings were lying hidden between the two mod-souls was not something the captain much cared for (Rukia was still forefront in his mind) and so he didn't wait around or even bothered with trying to get an explanation.

Instead the white haired youth pushed past his reflection with a clenched fist, tempted to slam it into the nearest wall as he dragged himself to the small dining area and collapsed onto the floor of the room, barely able to keep his balance from his clumsy settling by the low table.

For a few minutes he sat there just simply staring at the table, eyes lost in the pattern of the worn wood, listening to the ticking of the infernal clock on a nearby table until he heard heavy footsteps. Looking up, he immediately regretted the decision when the orange haired substitute narrowed brown eyes at him and came to sit beside the captain, knuckles white as his clenched fists came to rest on the table with Zangetsu leaning against the wall behind him.

His robes were stained with Rukia's drying blood.

A knife would not have sufficed to cut the tension in the room even as Jinta loudly came asking them if either wanted anything to eat. Denied by both males, he shrugged and left them to their silence, not even bothering to close the sliding paper doors behind him and allowing them both better reception of the comings and goings as Ururu nearly crashed into Jinta, wincing as he loudly yelled at her and tugged on her pigtails without mercy before allowing her to take the miraculously unscathed tea to the table before the two.

"Urahara-san said this is for the nerves. Please call me if you need anything else." The little girl said, hugging the tray to her chest and bowing deeply before leaving the room.

Ichigo stared at the teacup and Toushiro didn't bother to move. For a while they sat like that, their eyes straying to the doorway as occasionally one or the other child ran back and forth with supplies, Urahara's beckoning voice holding a twinge of urgency that only made the white haired youth feel worse for his actions.

Still he refused to move.

"What **happened**." It wasn't necessarily a question—more like a demand darkened by the desperation and fear of the wavering reiatsu that was barely a whisper in the back of their minds, a looming shadow of the reaper and an ironic reminder of their very lives.

Ururu's footfalls were loud in the silence as she took what looked to be a bunch of bandages towards the room where the small shinigami was being tended to, the murmurs of Urahara speaking to Inoue drifting from the open room like gentle waves in the ocean's tide.

Pain had spread from Toushiro's arm to the whole of his chest now, making it increasingly difficult to hide behind every breath as his gaze avoided that of the other young man. He hadn't had the chance to make even a rudimentary tourniquet for his arm so by now the poison most likely had spread easily through his whole system without much difficulty.

Would he start choking on his own blood soon?

"Toushiro-"

"It caught us by surprise."

His reflection in the tea placed before him a while ago seemed ashen and he wondered momentarily how long he could hide this from the others—how much time he could buy so that the redhead kept her focus on the one of higher priority.

"What **happened**?" Ichigo repeated more forcefully, oblivious to the way sweat began to bead his companion's paling brow.

For a moment the captain considered not saying anything, to simply play mute and remind Ichigo that as a captain Toushiro Hitsugaya owed nothing to his inferior substitute rank. But one quick look at the orange haired youth and he instantly discarded the idea. It wasn't that there was pride at stake here—Ichigo did not own Rukia, had no claim over her and thus was in no position as a man to demand explanations.

But what about Ichigo Kurosaki the friend?

"It appeared in the guise of an old friend of Rukia's and took her up to the roof. . . By the time I got up there. . . . it was a woman, almost a twin to Rukia. It threw me off for a second because they were both touching."

The reiatsu of the two had momentarily mixed and the sight of the young woman had sent a pang of relief through him until he heard Rukia's voice coming from the bleeding gigai. So many careless mistakes they had both made . . . and now she was paying for the both of them with interest.

_The arm is nothing_, he told himself, _it's just a little discomfort_.

"Rukia was already poisoned by then. I tried to attack and it changed. . . I couldn't kill it." For a moment Ichigo regarded him with a confused sort of nervous laugh, brown orbs revealing how much he was really starting to question the sanity of the captain.

"What do you mean you couldn't kill it? It was a stupid hollow that I could've taken out in one swipe if it wasn't for Rukia being hurt, Toushiro, what the hell is wrong with-"

"IT WAS MOMO!" Curled fists that had slammed on the table now stung, sending a flaring pain through the whole of his upper chest. But the anger that took over Toushiro was more than enough to ignore it if only momentarily as his aquamarine gaze narrowed and he roughly curled tan fingers around the collar of Ichigo's robes, jerking him violently until they were nose to nose. "IT WAS MOMO DAMN IT, DON'T YOU GET IT?"

All the fire that had built up in the substitute shinigami's eyes died in that one proclamation, silence falling over them like a thick choking blanket as Toushiro clenched his jaw and stubbornly hid the more rapid rising and falling of his chest. His emotions had taxed more out of him than he thought and with that sinking realization taking over he dropped his companion's collar clumsily before turning to the open doorway.

"I'll be outside if you need me."

"Wait, Toushiro-"

Was the floor. . . rapidly getting closer?

"Toushiro? TOUSHIRO!"

If he died there, his only regrets would be never getting some discipline instilled in his lieutenant and being unable to say sorry to Rukia. Other than that, he could say the poison didn't scare him much at all, even as the sight of Ichigo's feet by his face slowly began to blur to total darkness.

No, it didn't scare him at all.

Dying had been a daily part of reports filed, of his fight to rise, of Hyourinmaru's very legacy. Certainly it had to come for him one day as well. . . right?

Was this what it felt like to die? Dear gods, would Kurosaki _ever_ shut up?

Wait—why did it suddenly go all quiet? Where did the light go? He tested his limbs, poking, prodding, searching and testing the movements he had once considered nothing as a living person. Everything seemed. . . normal.

There was black, pure black for a moment, where he could not even see his fingers in front of his nose, couldn't see any spots dancing in his vision if he pressed the heels of his hands to his face.

Certainly this couldn't be death! How damn anticlimactic!

But then his ears began to pick something up.

Two voices.

One, a deep timbre he had heard before in the darkness, seeping into the crevices of his mind like winter chill on a sleepy morning and the other a soft melody on the wind, steady but graceful in the silence like the fall of snowflakes in the calm of night.

Laughter, bells, the pale of a glowing hand, eyes a shade of the palest patch of clear sky.

"_It's nice to meet you finally, Hitsugaya-dono."_

And in the background, Hyourinmaru's smile.

Aquamarine orbs opened slowly, catching the fading puff of a cold breath that escaped dry lips, shimmering gently with his reiatsu as he shifted in the darkness. Sluggishly things began to come back to him—name, place, who he was, what he did for a living—little things that pulled his feet back down to earth as his gaze instantly fell to the sliver of light from the loosely closed door and wincing at the onslaught of brightness that momentarily sent spots dancing in his vision.

_I'm. . . alive? _

His hand brushed something warm.

Immediately his attention was drawn to the side, a gasped choke of surprise coming from his lips as his eyes adjusted and a serenely sleeping Rukia came into view. Quickly the captain pushed himself up from beside her and he hesitated momentarily, reeling from the rush of blood to his head but noting with surprise how the pain from before had vanished.

His upper robes were gone, discarded beside the large futon on the floor. The chill of the room sent goosebumps rising from his flesh as curious fingers brushed gingerly over where the puncture wounds had been on his upper arm and realizing with satisfaction that there was nothing there—no wound and certainly none of the pain that had crushed his ribcage in a choking grip before he had given in to unconsciousness.

Then his attention turned to Rukia.

Even if he concentrated, the shadows of the room made it hard to catch the rise and fall of her chest as he slouched and his legs crossed under the thin blanket they shared, watching her still form with increasing worry. Her reiatsu was still quite weak, a quick probe proved efficiently, and he didn't really trust even that to fully drown out the anxiety that kept nagging at him to check her. With an unsatisfied frown he found himself shifting to lean above her, caging her between his arms as he used them for support right above her small shoulders, slowly lowering his head to the petite shinigami's face and tilting slightly so his ear was just above her delicate nose.

The breath that left the small of her body was cool against his ear and the feel of it tickling against his neck sent a strange shiver through him that he couldn't ignore.

But then he heard it.

It was faint at first as his gaze fell to her features. A soft palpitating beneath the weak breath that escaped her small body and made his soul relax above her.

Rukia's heartbeat.

_One, two. One, two. One, two. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

It was very subtle but it was there and the comfort, the warmth it sent coursing through him was a feeling he hadn't felt in such a long time that he couldn't help but let out a breath he hadn't realized he was even holding.

Teal orbs fell on pale features curiously then and he couldn't help looking at the young woman before him with the same inquisitiveness that had drawn his attention from the day she had stepped into his office with Matsumoto in tow. Her hair had been brushed to the sides, leaving petite features in full view to his gaze in the near darkness, to allow him to see how long lashes brushed gently against pink-tinted cheeks as she frowned in her sleep, brow furrowing and lips parting slightly.

He was close enough to feel her cool breath on him, to watch enraptured as violet orbs slowly opened in half-lidded confusion and she tried to speak through the haze between consciousness and sleep.

"_What. . . . ?"_

"Sleep." He whispered to her then, noting how she regarded him in her daze with a strange smile, a heavy sigh escaping parted lips as her eyes closed again and she fell back into oblivion without further question.

When her breaths finally became even once more was the time Toushiro could say that he finally allowed himself to rest again, lying back down beside her and hesitating only for a second before finding her hand under the covers and twining it with his own.

If something happened to her then, the prodigy reasoned before closing his eyes with a sigh that seemed to release the very tension of the world off of his shoulders, he would be the first to know.

* * *

"Matsumoto-san I really don't think-" The first voice called in an urgent whisper.

"Ssssshhhh!" He heard his lieutenant hiss then, "you'll wake them, Orihime!"

"But-"

"Seriously, look at them, hun, don't tell me you wouldn't want a picture of this!"

A picture of what?

His brow twitched.

"Oh crap I think he's waking up!"

"Matsumoto-san-"

A small click, and then, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Matsumoto?"

Opening one eye, Hitsugaya didn't bother to hide the suspicious frown from his features, glare already more than well prepared for use at whatever devious plan she had schemed. Because damn it all to hell he was sleeping and it was warm (but not overly so) and he was comfortable and it was just too peaceful for him to really want to put up with her antics.

Nonetheless, once again, Rangiku was unfazed as she waved a camera around.

"No, nothing really bad, Hitsugaya-taichou. Just came to check up on you since I got wind of what happened." The grin on her face was anything but reassuring; in fact, it was quite a bit scary seeing it from the floor as she leaned on the door frame to the room, baby blue eyes straying strangely to his side as she raised a brow. "But from what I can see, it's obvious now that my help isn't needed, and that a~aaall your needs are quite well taken care of."

Beside her, Orihime's gray eyes flicked from the captain to Rangiku and then to his side, cheeks burning pink as she smiled warmly. Toushiro hoped on everything sacred that neither of the two had done anything to him in his sleep because he wasn't dumb, he knew Rangiku and Orihime were friends—and the two in the kitchen were a high threat disaster (or so he had heard from Ichigo and Uryuu's last emergency visit to the fourth division on a stretcher). As he was already, to be honest he was a bit afraid to get up and check what the hell it was she was looking so gleefully at.

"Don't worry captain, I'm leaving now so if you'll excuse me," the buxom blond said with a grand bow, "I will take my leave."

"About time." He called to her retreating back, noting how Orihime took one last sneaking glance at his side before beginning to slide the door closed, "I'll be expecting that paperwork done!"

That was when he tried to move and found he couldn't.

If there was one thing Toushiro Hitsugaya was eternally grateful for in that one instant, it was that the healer had closed the door behind them because as soon as he heard the moan from beside him his spine stiffened and the realization that he _wasn't alone in the room_ became glaringly apparent.

Surely that would've been fine and dandy waking up with a fellow shinigami—ahem, his partner—in the room. . .except for the damn awkward fact that she was pressed to his side with her head in the crook of his shoulder and was currently in the process of waking up from the noise he had created.

_Shitshitshitshitshit._

His face was burning, dear gods above his face was _burning_ and probably worse than Renji's hair right now and damn that old cat to hell, he would make her **burn** for taking that freaking picture! What the hell would he do if Byakuya caught sight of it? What the hell would he SAY?

"_Yeah Byakuya, it's not what you think! Why was I half naked? Oh, uh, well because you see the night before-"_

Yeah that would go over quite well. So well in fact, that he would have a front row seat to the Kuchiki captain's infamous final stage of bankai.

Not necessarily the welcome home ceremony he was looking forward to-hell, paperwork sounded like heaven all of a sudden.

And even though these realizations passed at the speed of light through a panicking captain of the tenth division, he found himself completely paralyzed in horror as violet eyes opened and a faint, warm breath brushed against his bare shoulder. Technically it was only her head leaning on him, the rest of her body at an awkward angle because of her injuries the night before but that still didn't help the fact that damn it there was a _female_ sleeping next to him and he was _half naked_ and that damn picture couldn't look any worse (unless there were more clothes missing on her half—not a train of thought he would rather pursue given the current circumstances)

"C-captain-?" Immediately Rukia shot up and let out a strangled gasp, clutching her abdomen as she bit her lip and tried not to let the scream of pain get past a moan. The door opened behind them, Tessai quick to dive to her side and help the small woman lay back down but not before berating her gently and reminding her that this wasn't exactly the first time she had seen such an injury so she should know better. From her position on the futon Rukia started rolling her eyes but then hissed in pain, knuckles white as her small fingers gripped at the mustached man's ever-present apron.

"Alright, not the smartest idea I've had, I get it." She said, noting how both men in the room eyed her disapprovingly.

"Inoue-san couldn't finish healing the basic wound because she had to deal with reversing the effects of the poison first on the both of you. A little longer and she would've passed out on us as well so we told Ichigo to escort her home and put him in charge of making sure she got her rest."

Violet eyes flicked in thought to Toushiro, who fidgeted in the sudden attention when he realized the thoughts reflected in her gaze.

"I'm fine." He said before she could get a word out of her mouth. "It just managed to get to my arm is all." She was scrutinizing him then, worry furrowing her brow and a subtle grimace marring her features. It amazed him how even there, lying in what could've been her death bed she totally forewent her own well-being to focus on him.

To genuinely worry for him.

"Well, since both of you are awake, I'm sure Urahara-san will want to know so I'll inform him and bring you some breakfast while I'm at it." A sigh, and Tessai shifted his weight slowly to better stand.

"Tessai-san I'm not hungry, thank-"

"**I. will. Bring. You. Breakfast."** Pushing up his glasses, Rukia noted the dangerous glint in his eyes and how his nostrils flared in warning, subconsciously trying to cower deeper into the fluff of the pillow behind her head when he brought his face to bend close to hers menacingly.

"Ok." She squeaked. "Yessir."

Satisfied, Tessai nodded before getting up and sending a strange glare to the captain still sitting silently by Rukia on the futon, reminding the petite shinigami (more like threatening her) over one shoulder not to move anymore before slipping silently out the door and leaving it slightly ajar.

They listened as Tessai's shuffling went further and further down the hall, now fully aware of the birds perched on the roof's edge that chirped merrily in the sudden silence. Violet orbs strayed up towards the window, a half smile on the noblewoman's face as she winced in the flow of warm sunlight that made the wood floor glow but enjoying the feel of morning falling over pale skin.

". . . Does it hurt a lot?" Slight shifting and she swiveled to face the captain beside her, acutely aware of his gaze on her face as she shook her head in denial.

"It's not like this is the first time, just like Tessai-san said. I'll just have to ride it out a bit until Orihime gets home because I really don't feel spiritually stable enough to do it myself right now. Maybe later I'll-"

"Move your hands, Rukia." Before the young woman could protest Toushiro gingerly curled his fingers around her palms and lifted her hands down to her sides, all the while avoiding her gaze by concentrating on his own actions.

The irony . . . hadn't it been _her_ hands grabbing him closer in the dream?

Too much in shock at the sudden intimacy of the white haired young man, Rukia couldn't even protest as he raised a glowing green hand to her stomach and gently pressed it to her robes.

As soon as his hand made contact she gasped, causing Toushiro to jerk back in surprise.

"Did I-"

"No, sorry, sorry." A sheepish grin. "It was just. . . a bit . . . cold."

"Sorry."

"No, it's ok." Was her quiet reply. "It felt a bit strange was all. You didn't hurt me, don't worry Hitsugaya-taichou."

"Strange?" He asked, trying to concentrate more on his hands than the pink tinge on her cheeks. Both of their gazes followed his hand as he lowered glowing green fingertips to her abdomen once more. "How?"

For a moment Rukia watched him work, entranced by the glow that illuminated his features and half clothed body. There with the sunlight behind them and a serious, concentrated furrow of his white brow the young woman couldn't help but stare at the light scars scattered over his body, at the muscles that rippled under tan skin when he moved, and the way a single thick strand of white stubbornly hung over teal eyes.

Her fingers itched to brush it aside.

"It was cold but it felt good. Kind of like when you step in cool water and it shocks you at first, but then you get used to it and it soothes you."

A slight blush dusted light cheeks as she swallowed and ran a hand over her face to try and clear her mind, making it as nonchalant as possible as a delicate sigh left parted pink lips.

She stared at the ceiling, unaware of the captain's eyes on her, how he sat and tried to concentrate on healing her when all he wanted was to finish and get the feeling of her reiatsu away from him, to get away from the strange urge to feel it _closer_—as close as it had been when her hand had been protectively held in his own during sleep, or even as close (dare he remember) as in the dream a mere two nights ago.

Lavender. . . where lavender had engulfed him.

He had never experienced it before—the need, the _want_ of something so badly and it unsettled him deeply.

Nonetheless, the pulse of his reiatsu was soothing, fresh rain that washed over Rukia's body and made her smile when she noted her breath coming out in a white little puff. Watching how she lifted a small hand to the little cloud, her companion tried to lower his gaze stoically to his own working hand until her voice made him look at her once more.

"Does this happen every time you try to use kidou?"

He swallowed. "Yeah."

Looking at him, she tilted her head slightly on the pillow, eyes glittering with mirth. "I can see why you aren't part of the fourth division."

"I would've frozen everything before I got a chance to _heal_ anything." Was the muttered reply.

"I'm sure with enough training that wouldn't be a big problem." She retorted, curling fingers playfully around the little puff that left her mouth at the end of the sentence.

"Everyone tells me it hurts when I try to heal them. The only person it doesn't seem to bother at all is me."

"Or me." She added.

"Yeah." He corrected, looking at her. "Or you. Must be because your zanpaktou is ice based too."

"Yeah, makes sense."

A moment of quiet as they both lazily strayed through their thoughts, one of the little gray birds coming to peck at the windowsill before taking off and fluttering back to the nest Rukia was sure was there in the roof. There was ice beginning to form on the edges of the window, weaving branch-like tendrils that misted the glass and fought the warmth of the sun's rays and reminded her much of the way her own heart seemed to be fighting to understand what exactly was going on—both yesterday, and strangely enough, now.

"Hitsugaya-taichou?" There was something different laced in her voice when she finally chose to speak again. What it was, Toushiro couldn't really tell as he looked up to meet her gaze and waited for her to continue.

Swallowing, the deep glimmer of worry in her eyes didn't escape the captain before she asked in barely above a whisper, "what happened?"

Her body was beginning to reject his spell—the wound was nearly fully healed even as he hesitated and lifted his hand from her warm stomach to lay it in his lap, afraid of the emotions taking over and possibly causing him to fluctuate enough to hurt her.

Carefully, gingerly almost he lifted emotionless features to stare at Rukia in his usual business-like manner-the poker face everyone in Sereitei was treated to. What had happened had been delicate for the two of them, had ripped open wounds he had thought he'd healed long ago through reasoning alone.

Funny really, how _weak_ he felt inside all of a sudden.

Though he did have to admit he was slightly caught off guard by his partner's need to take the problem head-on instead of allowing herself time to collect her thoughts on the matter like he had tried to do when faced by an angry Ichigo.

Even now, he wasn't sure he was ready to swallow everything at once.

The way she faced him, mouth a grim line and eyes penetrating in the silence made him respect her—as a woman, as someone worthy of strength and honesty and the thought of possibly lying to her to protect her was discarded.

This was Rukia Kuchiki—there was no child here.

"How far do you remember?"

Violet eyes flitted thoughtfully to the side then, staring at the wall as if the memories were replaying themselves for her before finally turning back to him.

"The roof. Ashido—" She stopped herself then, frowning darkly. "_It_ stabbed me. Everything after that is a blur. I'm not sure what was real and what wasn't after that." The nod that followed from the captain was subtle and grim, sigh heavy as he shifted to try and get some feeling back in his legs and ran a tired hand through white hair.

"When I got up onto the roof your head was in its lap and it was talking to you. There was a pool of blood there—your blood. For a moment I thought it was you holding the gigai but I heard you say something and I realized that you never _left_ the gigai."

For a moment Rukia looked confused. "It looked like me?"

"Not completely like you. There were some differences. Her voice was softer, higher pitched. Your eyes are sharper than hers and the strand that goes down your face-" He pointed down the length of his nose with a finger- "is just one while hers-"

"Splits into two." The petite shinigami finished for him suddenly, looking to him for confirmation. Once more he nodded. "Did she. . . cough at all?

The white brow that was raised should've been enough of a reply, even as he retorted hesitantly, "should she have?"

Poking cautiously at her abdomen Rukia sat up then, looking away as she removed the covers with a quick rustle of robes and hands and began to get up.

"Yeah she should've."

"What difference would it have made?" The captain asked as Tessai came in with a tray, already glaring down Rukia, who huffed and let herself practically collapse back onto the futon. Glaring her down, the shop assistant set the small portable table/tray before the two of them.

For a moment the only noise was the clinking of utensils and plates, the petite woman poking at the rice with her chopsticks thoughtfully before offering a halfhearted thank you to Tessai and letting her gaze flick sideways to Toushiro timidly.

"Her name was Hisana." a small portion of rice was expertly grabbed between plain wooden chopsticks before being quickly popped into her mouth and chewed. She swallowed, taking a large gulp of the cup of water set beside the plate on the small carrying tray. "Hisana . . . she was my sister."

Toushiro had yet to really do more with his bowl but fiddle with it with awkward, edgy fingers, instead choosing to sit silently even as Tessai's gaze from behind thick glasses fell heavily on him and made him actually shiver. The shop assistant hesitatingly slipped out of the room after a moment, but not before fussing over Rukia one more time and leaving her none the wiser to the sudden annoyed twitch of the white haired young man's eye when he tried to glare down the back of their host.

"Oh don't worry, sir, it's ok." Rukia said, effectively snapping his attention back to her as he realized she probably assumed the brooding look down at his rice was because of something she had said (once again surprising him with how fluidly she slipped back into their previous conversation). "To be honest, the only reason I know she existed was because of Byakuya-niisama. It probably sounds horrible but I really don't know much about her. It's very hard to get Byakuya-niisama to speak about her at all."

Oh. . . so her sister was dead.

Now that just made him feel worse.

"Do you. . . regret not knowing her?" The small mass of food that was about to reach Rukia's mouth stopped by soft lips, hovering as she seemed to mull the question over with a pensive frown. Her feet crossed and tiny pale toes curled unconsciously in from the cool of the room under the small portable serving tray.

"No," She replied in a breathy voice after a long pause. The attempt to play it off as casual with a nonchalant shrug didn't fool him. "No, I don't."

Toushiro could understand that, he guessed.

Finally he sighed, picking up his own chopsticks and picking at his bowl of rice much like she had in thought, leading them into a comfortable quiet interrupted only by the shifting of one of the other inhabitants of the house or the occasional car down the old abandoned road. Even the birds, once chirpy and jumpy outside the window had settled down more, many of them most likely out hunting for food or soaring in the air with wings spread gracefully to the wind in surrender.

Much like Momo had the night before.

"May I ask you a question, sir?" Cerulean eyes flicked to her expectantly then, crashing back to reality and the chopsticks he hadn't even noticed had slipped out of his slack grip clinking against the bowl as he tried to pick them up casually again.

Rukia looked down at her food, visibly trying to muster up the courage to follow up on her thoughts and finally steeling herself enough to turn to the captain once more with all emotion wiped clean off of her features if only for a moment. Chopsticks once held in nimble fingers were primly set down beside the bowl, the raven haired shinigami raising her head with timid, almost fearful curiosity to regard him.

"I saw my friend Ashido, and a sister I never really met. . ." The voice he had learned to expect as strong and unwavering became soft and pained in that instant and even if she hadn't chosen to ask what he could already see coming, he knew he didn't like that voice when it came from her. "But. . . what did you see?"

A wave of sickness overtook Hitsugaya as he looked at his chopsticks and an image of Momo smiling, giggling at him flashed through his mind. His stomach churned, twisted with guilt and frustration, with everything he was trying hard to repress as he lowered the utensils slowly, placing them beside the bowl without turning to face Rukia.

He didn't owe her anything—not the truth—not yet. Not when he wasn't ready to face it himself.

That was what his head told him.

"It was Hinamori." But that. . . _that_ was what his heart told him to say even as it grated out huskily from his lips.

A moment of consideration as she seemed to think over his answer, eyes reflecting a wisdom that seemed a million years superior to her small form as Rukia simply nodded. "I see."

Again they found themselves in a quiet room with the ticking of the clock down the hall barely above a small click in the back of their minds. Urahara had long ago left with Jinta in tow and Tessai had disappeared to the underground areas for one reason or another with Ururu, most likely doing a million and one errands for the crazy shop owner.

All of this was made apparent by the flickering reiatsu of each individual as Toushiro Hitsugaya ate and tried to keep his mind clear of everything but the woman beside him, of how seemingly far he was from everything that had once seemed so stable (almost black and white in his life) and coming to the conclusion that somehow she seemed to have, without lifting a finger, caused it.

Would things. . . have been _different_ had it been him and someone else? Sure, maybe things would've flowed a bit easier, certainly enough to the point where he could follow and make quick work of everything, of the obstacle before them and go back home to brood over the shock of fighting Hinamori (once again, in different settings and different times) but. . .

Overall, through everything that had happened and every word he had said to her, every breath taken in her presence and reaction that had intrigued him:

Would he have preferred someone else?

"I. . . I have something I wish to ask of you, sir."

Toushiro raised a silent brow as he took a hesitant mouthful of rice, the question that had been revealed in his mind fading away with her penetrating gaze beside him.

"I want to ask. . . no, I want to _request_, sir, that you let me take this target down alone."

He nearly choked on the rice.

"Denied." Was the reply after not even a second of thought.

Violet eyes narrowed with barely suppressed frustration as he turned to her with a look that clearly began to question how much of her brain had been left undamaged by the poison (and by now thoroughly convinced things would've gone a lot smoother with someone else). For a moment they stared at each other, Rukia's eyes allowing only a slight flash of anger to pass through before she shut even that out, violet orbs two dangerous chips of hardened ice that penetrated through him for one eternal second before her head was lowered gracefully back to her bowl. Without looking she grabbed her chopsticks and he watched, intrigued by the sudden change in the young woman and quite unsure as to how to respond other than as a captain—so he scowled and turned back to his own food.

What was that saying again? Hell hath no fury. . .

"May _this subordinate_ at least have the chance for you to hear her reasoning out?" Her bangs hid whatever expression was on her face from him and for a moment he wished he could cradle her dainty stubborn chin in his fingers and force her to face him.

Ah, yes. It was hell hath no fury like_ woman scorned._

"Will _this superior_ have to hear out some teary woe-is-me story?" He retorted in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Cerulean eyes widened just a fraction as a chill went through him and he realized that the temperature of the room had just dropped, if only enough for him to notice-and that wasn't Hyourinmaru's doing.

"Let me kill it."

"No."

Silence, Rukia turning then to look at the captain without budging under his warning glare.

"I can do this, sir, **please** let me kill it."

"No."

"They sent us both on this mission and it won't come out unless I go out of hiding. Let me kill it."

"Tch. You can't stay in here forever, Rukia." A smirk as he regarded her, pointing his chopsticks at her for emphasis. "And once you go out, trust me I'll be there to get it before you do."

Now that, _that_ had done it.

Even though the young Kuchiki didn't show it, she was seething inside as she tried to swallow down another bite of rice. How _dare_ he treat her like some petty little subordinate who couldn't even take a step without hurting herself? What he said, the _way_ he said it—it was a challenge, damn it, it was a freaking _challenge_!

Her eyes glittered dangerously then in a gaze much like her brother's in all its undignified glory.

More stillness between them as the tension in the room spread, up until Ururu's familiar pigtails poked through the doorway followed by large watery violet eyes that went shyly from one form to the other and Rukia looked away, unable to hold the captain's challenging gaze any longer.

"Are you done eating yet?" Sighing, Rukia winced as she pushed herself up, wiping her face clean of the anger still radiating in her reiatsu. She barely offered a thank you to Toushiro as he helped her gather the dishes and handed them over to Ururu, who bowed before taking the tray slowly.

And then it hit her.

Well, it wasn't like she hadn't exactly broken the rules before. . .

_Yes, let's just add on another tick to our "I broke the rules today" board. _Was the waspish reply from her zanpaktou. _I'm sure Senbonzakura-dono will be quite happy to give me a three hour sermon on such things. . . **again**._

Rukia shrugged off the comment.

"Here, let me help you, Ururu-chan." The smile was gentle but there was obviously something deeper hidden behind the sweet voice. Immediately Toushiro's eyes narrowed in silent warning to the young woman, gleaming dangerously as his lips went into a familiar frown of disapproval that heavily loomed over her shoulders. Nonetheless, Rukia wasn't going to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under her skin and so she simply tried to ignore it.

He wasn't stupid, he was a prodigy for a reason and right now every cell in his spiritual body was telling him the tiny woman was up to something-and it was most certainly nothing good.

_Just what the hell are you planning?_

The two glass cups clinked in her grasp as she lifted them gently from the tray, ushering the girl out with feeble protests thrown at her. "Come on, let me help you, I just need to stretch my legs a bit. I promise I won't be a bother."

With her eyes alone she dared Toushiro to protest as she looked at him over one shoulder, to be a jerk and deny her the chance even to move before coolly prancing out after Ururu with all the aplomb of someone who had just won at the sight of the narrowed gaze following her out of the room.

_Great—Matsumoto now has an accomplice in headache-inducing behavior. That's just wonderful._

Sighing, he let himself fall back down onto the futon before closing his eyes and letting the melody of the birds outside lull him back into a calm state, figuring letting her stretch a little wouldn't be so bad as long as she returned to rest (because if he made a fuss over something so trivial he might as well have a heart attack over everything else that could possibly happen on this damn mission).

The captain may not get many chances to heal others, but that didn't mean he hadn't finished the process efficiently—nonetheless, it would take a while still for her soul to "realize" it had been healed and so really, there was nothing to worry about because surely she wasn't crazy enough to try and pull a stunt in her current state.

Really, she wasn't _that_ crazy, right?

It was in that position that Jinta found him, sliding the door fully open before leaning on the doorframe and raising a bright red brow casually, taking in the captain's calm and reveling in the chance to stir up trouble as he picked at a nail unhurriedly with a barely suppressed grin. He was sure the man on the floor knew he was there, and so he took his sweet time leaning on the threshold as he counted backwards in his head from twenty slowly—surely that would be enough of a head start, no?

_7. . . _

_6. . . _

_5. . . _

_4. . . _

That Kuchiki lady had scolded him once and he was nowhere close to forgetting it, even as she rushed past him and Urahara on their way back home with a finger raised to her lips and eyes pleading.

_3. . . _

_2. . . _

Payback was a bitch.

"So I was wondering, captain _sir_, how long will it take you to realize the lady just high-tailed it out of here?"

Immediately the arm that had been covering Toushiro's eyes raised and he let the full of his shocked gaze fall to the redheaded boy.

"_What_?"

"You heard me, don't play dumb! She just ditched your sorry a-"

A string of expletives drowned out everything else as Toushiro threw on his robes and leaped past the boy, hitting a dead run past Tessai and Urahara (the shop owner simply pointed a closed fan at the front door with a smile), nearly knocking over two shelves in his rush and almost ripping the front doors out of place as he dove into the warm morning sun and immediately pushed off into the skies.

_There_.

The hard part hadn't been to find her. Even though she had masked her weak reiatsu it had been done while she ran and so there was a faint enough trail that he had a general idea in which direction she was heading. If he ran fast enough with shunpo, he could probably catch up with her simply by following the trail before it faded out.

Simple child's play.

Now for the hard part—what the hell would he do when he caught her? She wanted to kill the target badly—enough to take it on in her current state and most likely chance it by sending a bright flare of reiatsu into the heavens in hopes the monster recognized it and got drawn like a moth to flame.

In his haste he nearly tripped over an electrical wire between two different sized buildings.

Assuming he was correct (did he really even need to confirm that after her mad little stunt?) , she had two possible theories to follow: one, that he had grown angry and left her to her own luck; or two, that he would immediately head out to find her. Of course it was a little too late that he realized that he had foolishly left himself unmasked and so cursed when he felt her speed further and further away from him.

But that didn't deter him.

He was a captain damn it, and his shunpo was superior to hers—not to mention she was still weak from all the healing her body had to settle into. If she pushed herself too much she wouldn't make it past the first swipe of a poisoned claw and that too, gave his steps just enough of a boost to push forward and find her.

It only took him a couple seconds to reach her, and he could tell that she knew because Rukia made the mistake of glancing back, hesitating as she leapt away from a seven-story apartment complex.

With an angry scowl Toushiro pushed off one last time before tackling her and sending them both tumbling down (nearly ramming into a poor bird that squawked indignantly) and coming to a graceless landing on a nearby building. Even as angry as he was at her, the captain encased Rukia without a second thought and protected her from the harsh landing on the rough cement, unaware of everything but the small body encased in his firm hold.

Violet eyes fell to his arm as they lay there catching their breaths and she noted with guilt that there were a plethora of fresh cuts and scrapes that had probably been caused by his landing.

"What the hell do you think you're _doing_?" He hissed furiously. His companion was breathing hard, sweat beading her brow even as she sat up, barely able to move from the sudden exertion but nonetheless meeting his glare stubbornly with one of her own.

"Restoring a friend's honor, _sir_." He couldn't help the mocking laugh that escaped him then, running a hand through the white tufts of hair with frustration as he too sat up and leaned all his weight on one braced arm.

"Yes, Rukia, by killing yourself you will restore your damn friend's honor, by all means please continue." Was the scornful reply dripping with bitter sarcasm.

It couldn't be helped then, Rukia sent him a scathing glare. Captain or not he had no right to interfere on such a delicate matter and discard Ashido like—

"I'm doing what I believe in my heart to be right."

"Well, your heart has no override on _my_ authority."

"It does when I say so." She said, mouth scrunching into a stubborn frown that would've struck him as rather endearing under different circumstances. But they weren't and so instead he scowled at her.

"And who _the hell_ gave you _that_ authority?"

"My own damn gut!" She yelled suddenly, stabbing a thumb to her chest for emphasis.

He raised an eyebrow then, for a moment overruling the outrage of being yelled at by someone of lower rank and instead aiming to get under her skin as revenge.

"Your guts talk to you?"

That totally threw her off and for a moment she blinked at him dumbly before wide violet eyes narrowed slightly, lower lip jutting out as she raised her head and crossed her arms.

"You're not stopping me."

"Damn straight I will. I don't care how hell bent you are on doing this, I'm not budging. That's my final order on this matter."

"I told you already sir, you can punish me later but I'm going to be the one to kill it."

"And you won't get killed because. . ?"

"That doesn't matter."

"Yes it does, Rukia, don't be an idiot. You can't just prance around hoping nothing happens to you."

"I never said it wouldn't." She retorted seriously.

A look into her unwavering gaze and then he couldn't help but look away, for some reason uncomfortable suddenly at the thought of her lying in a pool of her blood like she had been a mere twenty-four hours before.

"Rukia, I'm tired. I really would just rather leave this mess to a minimum."

"So what you're telling me is that I'm a hindrance now?" Even though her eyes narrowed angrily, if he had looked he would've noted the flash of hurt that flickered for a second before being drowned out by the hardening of her resolve.

"Actually now that you put it that way, yes." He replied frostily, quickly losing his patience with the young woman.

If that was what it took to get her to just sit still for a while, to allow him to do his job and protect her, then that was how it was going to be and Toushiro Hitsugaya would hold no qualms at getting his hands dirty in the matter.

But then he sensed her shifting and aquamarine orbs watched in slight confusion as Rukia rose to her feet, sword gleaming in the sun proudly as it was slowly drawn and swiveled so that the tip nearly met his nose.

She really had to stop taking pages from Byakuya's notes—the way she stood poised was exactly like her brother's stance, calm and unwavering but powerful in all its silence and Toushiro didn't like at all where this was beginning to head.

"Mae, Sode no Shirayuki."

A sigh.

"Rukia don't make a foolish mistake, let's be mature here."

As the small woman fluidly shifted into a defensive stance, Toushiro couldn't help but stare as a cool wave of her reiatsu reached him, dark in all its magnifying glory of anger, swirling around her and sending a breeze to kick up dust and ink black hair to the silent beat of her heart's call.

"Coming from the captain who sent Soul Society into an uproar with his disappearance, the captain the others and I believed as someone honorable and worth backing up even when Sereitei turned its back on him, that's saying something, don't you think so, sir?"

_When we all chose to help you restore your honor. _

He wouldn't lie—that one stung. It was a low blow and they both knew it even as he scowled at her, rising slowly to his feet with her blade following closely and began to unsheathe Hyourinmaru.

"You have one last chance to back down, _Kuchiki_." Was the low sneered warning. "I'm not going to say it again. **_Fall back_**."

There was a serene smile on her features, wise and refreshingly beautiful in all its terrible defiance as she lowered a pure white blade to a perfect horizontal posture.

"_No_."

The first swipe of his blade was hard for her to counter, even as she clenched her jaw and tried not to allow her fear, her shame for having to be pushed to such measures reflect in the gaze that she locked with the captain's.

One, two three, he wasn't even breathing hard as she danced at the edge of his blade, ducking, weaving, attempting to keep her footing as he slowly drove her towards the ledge of the building.

"What the hell do you wish to accomplish from this?" He snarled at her then, terrifying her to the core when their gazes met over crossed blades and she had a hard time not to just give up right there, to slip up and allow him to get what he wanted so that the push of his reiatsu wouldn't be so suffocating on her anymore.

"If you had listened sir, you would know." Was her own smirking reply before she tried to kick him, using the opening it created to duck away and gain a slight reprieve from him.

She couldn't win, she knew this.

Still, mulishly she continued, barely dodging a counterattack that would've cleanly beheaded her before gaining some distance and coming to a stop, chest rising and falling deeply with each ragged breath.

_I've seen worse than this. _Was the thought that strayed momentarily through her as Sode no Shirayuki was raised once more. _If I can distract him just a little maybe I could—_

That was when she noticed it.

Behind the captain, the backdrop that was the blue sky suddenly had a thin black line drawn horizontally against it, the familiar tearing noise too loud not to recognize as her eyes widened.

"HITSUGAYA-TAICHOU!"

How neither of them had noted the third presence coming to fruition behind Toushiro was beyond either shinigami. It wasn't until the white haired youth was rammed from the side by Rukia that he realized she had just saved him from a second poisoning, barely having ducked the claw herself.

"You two really don't learn, do you?" They both looked up from the rooftop to the skies above, where silhouetted against the backdrop of the clear morning skies Ashido stared back at them dressed in tattered shinigami robes, barefooted, and thick fur cape ever present on his shoulders.

A snarl escaped Rukia, fury coursing through her veins as she got up and raised her sword.

"Back down, Rukia." The captain called beside her as he raised an arm to stop her.

"Just one chance sir, that's all I ask. One _fucking chance_ to teach this bastard a lesson for destroying whatAshido _means _to me."

Silence.

"You guys still alive down there?" The doppelganger called before landing and sending a wink at Rukia, who only tightened her grip on Sode no Shirayuki and barely reigned in her emotions not to just rush in. She was a shinigami and she had been proud of that—even here, when a situation called for her as a friend, as a comrade, in the end she couldn't bring herself to finally completely break away from the rules as easily as Ichigo had.

Toushiro noted how she trembled with barely suppressed fury, with the primal itch to fight and spill her opponent's blood in morbid repayment for whatever personal loss this friend represented.

_Does he really mean that much to you? _

From the corner of her eye Rukia caught the glint of Hyourinmaru as he was lowered to Toushiro's side, a heavy sigh escaping him before stepping back and the arm once raised protectively in front of her was lowered away.

Ashido was getting closer.

"If he hits you once, I step in."

Taking both hands slowly out of his pockets, their target flicked them out to reveal the long, curving talons from the night before, the blade that Rukia had once fondly admired at Ashido's side fading away.

Her jaw clenched, mouth suddenly dry.

"Make it fair, sir, three."

There was a smile on her friend's—no, that _monster's_ face.

"Two or nothing."

A slight flicker and suddenly he was diving for them at a speed that forced both shinigami to dive to opposite sides.

Breathing heavily, Rukia rose from where she had tumbled, smirking as she wiped the blood roughly from the edge of her lip (where she had been biting it nervously) and nodded.

"Deal!" She called across the roof. "But that one doesn't count!"


	10. Interlude: Just Haven't Met You Yet

**A/N: **So I was listening to this song, and for some reason I just couldn't get the idea out of my head-what if Rukia and Toushiro had met when they were younger? How would've that affected things? But most of all, is a tomato even a friggin vegetable anymore?

Lol. The song is Michael Buble's "Just Haven't Met You Yet." Friggin thing got stuck in my head so I just kinda rolled with it. As it stands this could've been a one-shot, but I thought it fit better in this context. . . sorta like a little jab destiny took at them? I kinda calculated this to happen pre-Renji days.

Anyways, enjoy, and know this:

**IT IS CALLED AN INTERLUDE FOR A REASON! **

XD

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)_

**

* * *

**

(Interlude) I Just Haven't Met You Yet

* * *

The market square was busy. Peddlers called out their price, raising their different wares to the sun and arguing heatedly with haggling women, men, anyone willing enough to take them on and talk them down to something reasonable in the many street vendors of Junrinan. The tiny shops offered little relief from the stifling warmth of summer, sweat beading the brow of many and causing tempers to rise with the continuing arc of the sun over the clear blue skies.

There would be no rains today.

A little boy with snowy hair eyed everyone silently from his grandmother's side, curiosity evident even as he frowned grumpily and wiped awkwardly at his forehead.

"Come on, Toushiro, we're almost there." The elderly woman holding his hand said, trying to offer a reassuring smile as she continued calmly.

He didn't reply.

They continued for what seemed an eternity between the throngs of people, Toushiro unsettled by the continuous contact and noise. Even from such a tender age of ten he knew he didn't like people and he had no qualms in glaring others down when they bumped into him or his grandmother or even stomping a toe here or there in retribution before the woman towing him around could yank him persistently away.

From where they were he could just make out the entrance to the familiar vegetable vendor between people and relief coursed through him at the promise of shade—something they hadn't been in possibly for more than two minutes at a time, if that on their errand run.

"HEY!" The angry yell of the man behind the many wooden crates caught their attention first, a few other people that had been milling about turning as well before going back to their own business. It wasn't until he saw between the crowd and noted how the man darted out and literally dove that he realized what was going on.

"My, my, what a lively day it is." His grandmother called with a sigh as they heard more yelling. Calmly they wove between a few groups before coming out to the clearing, Toushiro raising a brow at the sight.

The man was pinning down a tiny girl who continued kicking and struggling even as the vendor yelled and threatened to slap her. A tomato was lying forgotten at her side, violet eyes glimmering dangerously as she cussed, spitting at the man and taking advantage of his surprise with a swift knee to the stomach (which Toushiro had no doubt would've been aimed lower had her height permitted).

Her black hair was filled with dirt from the struggle, kimono torn and ragged and obviously not her priority as she tried to crawl out from under the man before being angrily pinned down again, the force knocking the wind out of her as she closed her eyes, clenching her jaw and preparing for the hit as a hand was raised high.

But it never came.

"Excuse me, sir?" His grandmother called out suddenly. Toushiro looked from one face to the other, noting how the hand hesitated, hovering above the vendor's head. "What seems to have happened?"

Breathing heavily, the man wiped at his moustache with a sweaty hand, the other still pinning down the child by her neck. By now her eyes had opened and they flicked quickly from Toushiro, to his grandmother, to the man, a strange look overtaking her features as she noted the fallen vegetable.

"This little brat was trying to steal from me. Was just gonna teach her a lesson was all."

Toushiro stood quietly then, face emotionless but eyes never leaving the girl with black hair, noting how her chest rose and fell quickly and how her tiny hands were latched onto the man's thick arm like tiny claws, scratch marks marring the skin.

"Child," his grandmother asked as if they were just sitting and having tea, "what is your name?"

Even there, pinned and with nowhere to go there seemed to be no fear in her eyes. Defiance there was plenty of, violet brimming with it as she scowled at him from her position before meeting his grandmother's gaze.

"Rukia."

"I see. Well, Rukia, when was the last time you ate?"

A wince as she struggled slightly under the man's weight. "Three days."

"Ah. Well sir," She said, turning her attention to the vendor, "if you would be so kind, I would appreciate it if you gave her what she needed, and just let me take care of the rest."

Both children's eyes went wide, Toushiro looking up at his grandmother and tugging on her hand for attention. "Gramma! Gramma what are you-"

"Toushiro, be kind enough to help her up, if you will. Granny would but she's old and this back just isn't what it used to be." The warmth and softness of her aged skin released itself from his grasp and she nudged him forward, causing the boy to stumble before coming to stand awkwardly beside the vendor and his victim.

A sigh.

"Are you sure you want to help this delinquent, ma'am?"

A nod was the man's reply as he released the girl, standing slowly before stepping away, glare never leaving the child.

The black haired girl sat up for a moment, rubbing at her neck and wincing at the pain that came with the cautious prod of her fingers.

There would be nice bruises there later.

"Gimme your hand." Violet eyes went from her own tiny hands to the boy standing beside her.

At the look on his face her brow furrowed in annoyance and she jutted her chin out stubbornly, getting up and dusting herself off.

"I'm fine." She muttered at him.

"Well, fine then, get lost! You're causing gramma problems!"

The reaction was immediate, hands curling into tiny fists and for a moment he wondered if she was going to sock him a good one as her eyes narrowed.

"JERK!" She yelled, shoving him hard enough to make him lose his balance and land harshly on his butt. A tiny index finger was jabbed in his direction. "I hope you choke and die!"

Swiveling around, she made a feint to grab something from one of the many vegetable crates before quickly diving out of the way of the vendor's hands, sticking her tongue out and flipping him off before disappearing in the crowd.

A moment of silence between the three, Toushiro getting up and glaring at the ground angrily as his grandmother passed by him and gave her order to the vendor.

"Will that be all, ma'am?"

"Actually, no sir. You might want to add the three carrots that child managed to grab."

The man simply cursed.


	11. When My Heart Is Split Like Rio II

A/N: Well, not quite as long as I would've liked, but here it is! XD I apologize for the long delay, but life takes back seat to nothing so I'm just happy to see this finally make it online. Writer's block doesn't help either, especially when you're trying to transition things, you know?

I'm actually thinking of posting some of my initial doodles about this story on deviantart(dot)com, so I'll announce it next chapter whether or not they make it on there, seeing as my scanner isn't in a cooperating mood lately. Other than that, enjoy, and don't forget to drop me a comment or two! ^^

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

* * *

_**When My Heart Is Split Like Rio II**

* * *

One hit—that was what she had taken so far.

It wasn't particularly nasty, but there was enough blood trailing down her temple that it plastered black tresses to pale skin. The violet of her gaze was hardened into lavender ice, glittering in the light of her reiatsu as she fired a rapid succession of kidou flames at the arrancar and ducked under a wide swipe of a claw, sweeping out a leg in an arcing kick that set a distance between the two opponents.

She knew she was being watched closely.

Toushiro had not let up on their deal, relentlessly following the two as they took to the air and diving easily away from a cheap cero shot aimed at him. Nonetheless, it didn't surprise him at all to see Rukia take advantage of the momentary opening with an attack of her own.

"Some no mae, Tsukishiro!" Using shunpo she dodged a swipe, coming to stand nearly shoulder to shoulder with Ashido before swinging Sode no Shirayuki in a wide arc and preparing to dodge away.

"Rukia!"

Her eyes widened as the arrancar leapt from the glowing circle of tsukishiro and grabbed her by the arm tightly, causing the young woman to wince as she was wrapped in a swift headlock in the crook of his elbow and her arms were pressed behind her by the grip of his other arm, Shirayuki useless in her slackening grip.

"_It was so easy to hurt him."_ The voice carried to her ear sent a shiver down her spine, jerking her head as far away as possible instinctively even in the iron grasp.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She snarled, trying uselessly to struggle.

"Let her go." She glanced up as the captain hissed warningly, suddenly in front of them with sword raised.

There was no fear in the arrancar's eyes as he looked up at the captain subtly, nuzzling into Rukia's hair as she protested vehemently. There was a challenge in the deep of the smoldering gray gaze, lips twisted in a mocking smirk.

"_Did you know that shinigami are really easy to break, Rukia?" _She was swearing beneath her breath at him now, wincing as he tightened his grip after she tried to kick him._ "Did you know that __**Ashido**__ was so easy to break?" _

All the struggling she had been doing ceased immediately, the small chuckle that reverberated in the inky dark of her hair stiffening her spine. "_All I had to do was tell him that I would bring him back your body." _

A deep trembling began to take over her form, fury coursing through her veins as she tried to speak. Her mouth opened as she gulped in air heavily, anger a brilliant display as she used the only weapon she could in that one moment—her head.

Jerking it to the side and clenching her jaw tightly, she prepared herself for the pain as she screamed, using all the momentum she could to drive her head smashingly into the face of the being holding her.

The sound of bone breaking was loud as she was released, realizing she had broken skin and that new blood poured forth from the pulsing area behind her ear with a dizzying grimace. Stumbling forward, she all but crashed into Toushiro as he raised her up, amazed that she was still standing after the head trauma she surely had taken from the arrancar's tough exterior.

Leaning heavily on him, Rukia visibly stiffened at the sound of the voice behind them.

"_You should have seen the look on his face as he tried to __**desperately**__ make me stay, even though he was hopelessly bleeding his guts out." _The little pleasure-filled chuckle made her fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into Hitsugaya's haori and strong to the point where she could almost feel the little lunar arcs forming on her palm through the fabric.

In her other hand, Sode no Shirayuki was shifted testily.

"_I'm sure Aaroneiro would've been __**begging**__ me to be part of his Fraccion if he had been there to see it."_

The petite shinigami was trembling in his arms, Toushiro realized—and this wasn't from fear.

Before he could even blink, Rukia shoved him away and Sode no Shirayuki was raised high, reiatsu making her form glow as she gracefully sidestepped a direct claw and jabbed the pure white blade below the final rib as far as it would go.

"_Blue Fire, Crash Down_!"

A plume of smoke and Rukia came shooting out, rolling once before she regained her footing and dug a hand scrapingly into the reiatsu "floor" under her body to stop the movement. Her fingers were raw from the friction, red and bleeding as she wrapped them without hesitation against the hilt of her fair blade.

"You stupid _**wench**_." Ashido hissed, a hand covering the bleeding wound. One eye was half closed from being burned so severely, the corresponding half of his face charred enough to reveal the bony interior of his true self. One shoulder was covered in burns and bleeding openly.

"Fall back, Rukia. We made a deal—let me finish this now!"

But she didn't listen.

A bright red glow surrounded the single pointed finger aimed at her, and suddenly Toushiro couldn't breathe as he watched Rukia fearlessly pushing forth a second dance, ice flowing from the tip of her sword in a flood that glittered ethereally, a blooming blossom that momentarily covered the sun and burned red inside from the encased cero shot.

For a moment he began to doubt his shunpo skills, wondered achingly for a mere second if he would make it even as he wrapped firm arms around the small woman and pushed her out of the way, the ice she had encased both arrancar and shot in exploding into tiny shrapnel in all directions.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" He yelled behind a kidou shield, shaking her by the shoulders and trying his coldest glare. "Pay attention to me, damn it!"

But even there Toushiro knew that trying to get to her would be a lost cause. She may be bruised and battered, but her friend was the only thing keeping her on her feet at the moment and she wouldn't stop until justice had been served by her own cold hands. Beneath the curtain that was her hair he could barely see the deep pools of violet flickering with so much life, could barely see the way she matched his eyes with a gaze so cold it outdid his frustration but it was more than enough to make him release her.

Another cero aimed at them and she slipped from his grasp easily, sword raised as she took a stance before the arrancar without a word. A smirk and the two were engaged again, the young woman barely able to keep up with her head spinning so much.

"RUKIA!"

She managed to block one punch, but with the weight of Sode no Shirayuki in one hand was unable to time herself well enough to dodge the second blow, eyes widening as she took a direct hit to the stomach. Much like a rag doll she was sent flying through the air, at least mentally capable enough to hold onto the reiatsu concentration under herself so she wouldn't plummet through the skies to the ground many meters below.

But it wasn't necessary.

The sound of sonido ripped through them as the arrancar shot forward towards the figure crashing with a grunt into a small concentration of reiatsu beneath her. So busy was Rukia with recovering that she didn't realize what was going on behind her.

"MOVE!"

The gate ripped open, time slowing down to an aching crawl as he watched her eyes widen at the feeling of the familiar entrance opening behind her like a gaping mouth, her opponent laughing as he used the momentum of his steps to grab her by the collar of her robes and drag the small black haired girl into the opening.

_What. . . ?_

His heartbeat was loud in his ears.

_NO. . . !_

When he moved, Toushiro didn't know but it wasn't a moment too soon that he felt the gate close behind him with a resounding thud that shook him to the core, eyes roving urgently past darkness, _suffocating_ _darkness_ and a feeling of urgency that he felt was becoming a little too familiar.

"_Juhaku." _

There was the acrid smell of burning flesh, the burning sting of sweat and choking, clinging waft of smoke and blood from the previous fire spells. The reiatsu that flared to life before him made the captain wince momentarily, blocking it partially with a raised arm but nonetheless running towards it with Sode no Shirayuki's bell echoing an enticing call in the empty space of the tunnel and the stench ever presently burning his nostrils.

"_It's my turn to tell you a little secret."_ Rukia's voice reverberated in the empty chamber. Here, there, and back again it reverberated much like the stone carelessly dropped into a still pond, teasing and light in its toned finality.

The captain stopped then a few yards away, the feel of her rising reiatsu causing him to gasp in the cool air before watching it escape in a small cloud from his lips. Ahead Rukia stood poised in a low stance with hair whipping furiously, almost in a waltz of misfortune and wrath that made her foot light and movements unhesitant. The length of her white blade was pierced through the arrancar's chin and the sound of cracking ice filled the air with a chill that made his skin crawl.

It was spreading rapidly over the arrancar's trembling body. His one good eye was wide, shock and pain evident in his gaze as it went glassy and then came back, fighting unconsciousness to the last moment as he looked down the length of the white blade into her furious eyes.

The area behind them rippled, and once more the skies tore with a noise that made both shinigami wince.

Somehow the arrancar managed to get the strength to take a step back but Rukia followed with small stubborn hands still wrapped tightly on her blade, unyielding even as they fell backwards and through the gateway in a rapid freefall from the inky sky of the Menos Forest.

Weak claws reached for her face, the ice now covering over half his body and the last of Ashido's mirage fading away from the Hollow's true form. The shinigami yanked herself down to its level, bringing her lips to his ear as he had done to her earlier as they plummeted.

"_I __**killed**__ Aaroneiro." _

With one final grunt, she jerked the blade hard, pulling it out and unflinching at the splattering of blood on her hands and face, even as the branches of the forest tore at her clothes, at her pale skin.

Ink black tresses finally settled messily in a dark halo about her features, a single strand falling like a smear across her petite nose as she landed in a puff of white dirt with the sickening thud of a dead body beside her. She didn't move, eyes frozen on her own feet and shoulders trembling with each rattling breath, Sode no Shirayuki loosely in her grip.

Toushiro watched silently as the body burst into a million particles of reiatsu that rose around her like a wave and silently floated to oblivion, toying with her tresses as her mouth settled into a grim line.

The forest was silent.

"Are you happy now? How the _hell_ are we going to get back?"

Violet eyes strayed up to him for a moment as if lost, but then she simply frowned before wiping away some of the blood off of her face with her robes. In her other hand, Sode no Shirayuki took a silent command, the ribbon shrinking and the bell disappearing as the blade went back to a regular katana.

"Ashido knows a way out. Honestly though, I wouldn't have faulted you if you had left me to die here by myself."

"Tcheh. What would I tell your brother?" Was the quick retort.

Not that he was really afraid of her brother . . . really, he was impartial in the matter.

For a moment she seemed to hesitate, eyes blinking suddenly as if she hadn't really come across the thought. Rukia opened her mouth to reply then, but was abruptly cut off by the ear-shattering howl of a hollow that was soon replied by several others around them.

The first had been the closest—it was near enough that when the sound of a heavy foot fell onto the ground, the tremors were felt beneath their sandals and a refreshed sense of urgency flashed between them.

"Shit, we lingered too long in one spot! Come on!" His fingers gripped tightly on her arm but she didn't protest.

There was no way they would make it far without being spotted, especially with such a vast blanket of Menos Grande surrounding them. It had been a wonder they had landed in a clear patch and been left to their own devices for so long, and if he had had the chance he would've taken it to wonder why that had even been possible.

As it was they had little choice but to hide and so when his quick darting gaze caught sight of a little makeshift hole in the weaving roots of a white tree, he didn't hesitate to yank Rukia and shove her forward into it first, diving in after her. Not a moment too soon, a Menos Grande stepped before the tree where they were huddled in the tiny niche, followed by two more that sniffed at the air ripe with their fresh reiatsu scent.

Her body was warm beneath his, her back against the dirty wall of their little hole and knees drawn awkwardly sideways so Toushiro could sit on his haunches before her, Hyourinmaru having long been drawn and ready in his lap as he turned slowly to peer through the opening.

It wasn't until then that he realized that they would only have a few seconds to run once they were (quite literally) sniffed out. Maybe a cloaking spell—

But Rukia was a step ahead of him. He watched silently as the air between the intertwining roots rippled, glowing only momentarily as his partner reinforced the spell with each whispered breath. At the very least now they were invisible—both as a reiatsu signature and visibly. And he would've turned to thank her for her quick thinking but he realized something strange then.

For a moment the gillian stopped—silent, unwavering shadows towering above them.

"—_tender paper sun, the bloodhound fang sharpening a thousand moons-" _

Toushiro nudged her to be quiet for a moment, but he didn't realize her eyes were closed in concentration.

The Menos were shifting.

Surely they couldn't _hear_ as well as they—

His question was soon answered as the great being began to bend slowly, sniffing as it went. Toushiro shouldn't have been surprised then to see it immediately zero in on their tree, but the curses still rang in his head as he turned to Rukia urgently now, trying to shake her shoulder more directly but being met with a "just a second" gesture of her hand as she continued without hesitation through the cry of the gillian.

"Rukia_, shut up_!" He hissed urgently, but she wasn't listening.

A few seconds more and the hollow would have them completely cornered.

What the hell should he do?

Shutting her up would be top priority. The kyokko chant had been said enough that even if she were to stop, it would linger a little longer. There _had_ to be a way to get her to pay attention and to—

He had to do something and do it **_now_**.

And really, he had no choice, he thought glancing up to see the Menos bending ever lower towards them. If he simply tried clamping a hand over her mouth she might struggle and make more noise—not exactly what they needed now.

Before he could think it over twice, Toushiro turned and hesitated only for a precious second before slipping a hand up to the nape of her neck and yanking her towards him.

And he kissed her.

* * *

"You know why I called you in here."

The door clicked silently closed behind the young woman clad in the kimono emblazoned with the Kuchiki crest. She didn't shuffle—made not a single sound as she turned to bow gracefully before Byakuya, everything on her person perfectly in place and not a single wisp of navy blue hair loose from her tight bun.

Deep brown eyes fell to the floor demurely, but Byakuya knew better than to expect fear from the maid (frankly he couldn't remember her name) as she stood before his desk. Small pale hands were clasped politely before her as she looked up at him and smiled serenely.

"No sir," Was the calm reply, "I actually do not."

"Rukia holds you in high regard. As such, your help will be needed."

"In what may I be of use to you, Kuchiki-sama?"

"As soon as Rukia comes home, I need you to start preparing her for an engagement."

A moment of silence, and for the first time Byakuya caught a subtle change in the maid's features. Her brow furrowed slightly, but other than that she controlled her thoughts and hid them well behind a finely tuned smile.

"I see. Please excuse my ignorance, sir, but is this preparation going to be . . . mental or . . . literal?"

For a moment he regarded her in the silence of his study, realizing that she truly did mean her question sincerely and so he found it hard not to take it as such.

"Mentally. The literal we'll deal with later."

"Is there a suitor?"

Well it was no wonder Rukia had requested to keep the young woman! She was equally curious and twice as open mouthed.

"No." He said with a hint of annoyance. "As of this moment, there is none."

If there was any relief in her, the maid didn't show it as she nodded.

"Anything else you need of me, sir?"

"No, you may leave." Thanking him lightly, she turned to depart but suddenly hesitated at the doorway. Her hand was light on the thick expensive frame and if someone were to walk by, it would seem as casual as her asking him whether he would like milk in his tea.

"Do you think. . . that this is what's best for her?"

Her back was turned to him, but her eyes might as well be burning into the master from the other side of the room in the silence. A part of him stirred with annoyance at the question, but the other did feel the sting of truth in her words, somewhere deep in the recesses of his stoic mind where Senbonzakura grew restless.

"What would ever bring you to ask something so foolish?"

It was then that the maid turned, smiling strangely at him.

"Of course sir, my apologies." A polite bow, the emotionless blinking of brown eyes and she was gone, leaving Byakuya to swallow the bitterness in his mouth and stare openly at the hands he had placed on the desk.

How _would_ Rukia take to a suitor? That question had been circling the head of the Kuchiki clan's head for so long that he almost wanted to physically swat it away.

Even Senbonzakura seemed completely at a loss for words at the thought of having to hand the job of protector to some other blade—because surely whoever married Rukia-sama would need to be on par with her abilities, if not surpassing them. . . no?

A suitor outside of Sereitei walls. . .

Would they allow it?

"Of course not, do not waste my time with such useless notions, Senbonzakura." Byakuya answered out loud before turning his attention to the report before him.

Ok, so that narrowed the list down comparably, even among the nobles. The most likely choice would be someone from the house of Shihoun. . . the other two families were powerful but not necessarily someone who the Kuchiki clan really wanted to bother to have ties to. Power was the least of their problems.

Still, if a suitor of those bloodlines came, he couldn't—_wouldn't_—be turned down.

So someone of noble heritage . . . well not necessarily. If someone were to figure in a shinigami of higher levels, there was quite the spread for Rukia to choose from. The question was, would anyone be interested enough to step up?

Then there was the x-factor:

Would Kurosaki Ichigo try to save her?

Or better yet, _take that place beside her_?

There was only one person who was able to assuage any possible crazy notions that could pass through the kid's head—and unfortunately, unless Rukia agreed, there was no way to reign in the wild card that was on their hands now.

This whole matter was a lot more unsettling than Byakuya had thought it would be now that he had time to reflect on it. Certainly more so once he hesitated over a blank line on one of the many reports, staring at the previous person responsible of said document: his own vice captain.

The signature was sloppy, a mark of indifference (for the sake of not saying "half assed-ness") marring the perfection of the otherwise impeccable report before him and it caused a subtle frown to slightly twist his lips.

What stunt would Abarai pull once he got word?

_Don't worry, my sword is more than ready for him. _

If there was one thing that was for certain, it was this:

All hell was going to break loose.

* * *

They were nose to nose in the sudden silence.

For a moment it was as if it was just the both of them and Toushiro wondered if Rukia could hear the way his heart pounded furiously in his ears, or felt the breath from his still parted lips on her fair skin.

Both their eyes were wide.

He swallowed.

"I. . ."

Behind him he felt the tremors of the gillian's feet as it shifted, howling in frustration at its inability to find anything. They both grimaced with each movement of the hollow but neither of them dared to move in the small space until finally the quaking beneath them became tiny wavers.

The captain shifted uncomfortably in the silence, eyes flicking to his companion as his sandals scraped at the white dirt beneath them.

"Sorry, I-. . ." It felt as if someone had stuffed cotton balls in his mouth. All he could do was flounder for a moment until he forced himself to swallow. "I. . . didn't mean to do that."

For a moment, all Rukia could do was stare completely dumbfounded at him, nodding slowly. The violet of her eyes slid from his face to her sandals, wide still with shock even as she answered.

"No, it's. . . it's ok. Really, no harm done, it was my fault for not listening. My fault. . ." But at this point whether it was to reassure herself or him, neither was too sure as she lightly shrugged. "Sorry, sir."

Their eyes met again and both froze, unsure of what to do.

"That wasn't. . . your first, was it?"

It took a moment to register in her mind, but when it finally did she shook her head. "Uh, no, it uh, wasn't."

Rukia had enough presence of mind to jerk her face to the side, Toushiro unable to miss the blush that spread on the black haired young woman's cheeks even as she attempted to hide it behind a nervous cough and the raising of a small fist to her face.

And though he nodded as if glad, for some reason the thought bothered the white haired youth. Not that it was any of his business, but still. . . who would have the audacity (the _guts_) to take something like that from Byakuya's little sister?

"We should get going, sir, we still have a ways to go."

"Right."

Shifting slowly, Toushiro got out first and surveyed their surroundings cautiously as Rukia stretched out her cramped legs.

"How's the wound on your head?" He called to her in a low whisper without turning.

Frankly, she had been trying to ignore the stinging (and pounding, and incessant throbbing and any other word to describe the constant mallet to her head). The, uh, _incident_ had done quite a good job of momentarily distracting her up until now as she gingerly probed, wincing when the pads of her fingers touched the sensitive area where she already felt an angry bump forming under her scalp and trying not to let tears spring to her eyes.

"It stings a little, but it's fine." Quickly Rukia wiped the blood off of her fingers, taking a deep breath as she tried to rein in the pain she was now fully aware of.

A breeze would nearly double her in pain right now, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Rukia would've rolled her eyes but seeing her current predicament chose to bite her tongue and sigh heavily.

"Three, sir."

"Come on, we have to get out of here. Can you keep the spell going while running?" It didn't surprise him much to note she knew what he was referring to.

"Yeah."

"Do it."

Without hesitation Rukia took the chant up in a whisper, making the symbols with her hands as she ran behind the white haired young man, who felt more than saw the bubble shimmer momentarily around them.

She thought of her brother. She thought of Ichigo, of every person in the eleventh division that she knew, of Ishida and Chad, of everyone who shouldered heavy wound with barely the shrug of a shoulder.

And she became them, if only for a moment.

It was excruciating in a way Rukia couldn't shoulder by herself but instead of giving in she clenched her tiny jaw, forced her will into the spell, and ran forward with head held high in a way that would do her brother proud.

_One step, just one more step, just one more step. _

They ran a few hundred or so meters before Toushiro realized she was lagging slightly behind him, the exertion already taking a toll on her and revealed through the small beads of perspiration on her temple and hitched breath.

Holding the bakudo around both of them would tax her before they even got to her friend at that rate.

"Come here." He instructed. And without waiting for permission or for her to stop he yanked her towards him and scooped her up mid-stumble before jumping up to the lowest branch of a nearby tree, using it as leverage to get higher.

Teal eyes glanced down at her questioningly for a second before he landed on the next tree. "Keep going."

Cradled in his arms, Rukia could do nothing but obey. It was obvious he had picked up on the only other live reiatsu signature in the forest and for that she was glad. Her body had long ago reached its limit and she marveled at the fact that she could even be conscious of everything going on around her enough to be of use still. (Brother, she was brother and she was _strong_) Her body wasn't yet done recovering completely from the poisoning, as well as the new wounds that would surely decorate her body for a while—not to mention the nice wet spot on her head to remind her of her own insanity.

And now this.

With the spell quickly sapping her, it took all her will to simply stay awake and keep it going steadily around them, so directing him in the right direction would be near to impossible for her. Having to _force_ her reiatsu to go against its own better judgment and flow out of her body wasn't exactly helping matters either.

With the both of them doing their part (Rukia holding up the kyokko, he being as noiseless and swift as possible) they managed to last for quite a while, having a good speed and making it a relatively decent distance.

It wasn't until they were about a few miles away when Rukia couldn't take it anymore and the bubble began to shimmer in protest, rippling brightly before beginning to crack and finally dissipating around them.

"We're almost there, hold on." He whispered, trying to shake her so she wouldn't pass out on him. "Your friend is very close now."

_And alive. _

But he momentarily forgot that the spell was gone, and the curses rang loud in Rukia's ear when a cluster of Menos Grande all caught sight of him midair between two trees. He couldn't defend with the young woman in his arms, so he quickly went to option B and aimed to go higher in the tangled limbs of the tree, running as fast as he could in the general direction of Rukia's friend's location.

"You- awake-?" He asked between breaths, ducking them under a branch that would've hit him square in the face before avoiding a cero shot from below.

One shot, that was all she could probably muster at this rate—a single shot of a Sokatsui flame—and even that would be very hard to bring to fruition.

"Yeah." The only option she would have would be to shoot it just as they reached the entrance to the clearing, where hopefully Ashido's own kyokko still had the area covered. If not, then they'd just be cornered rats in a little hole, but at least it was an advantage to know it only had one entrance.

"Is that it?" Turning, Rukia shook her head as she tried to get her vision to focus between the blurring limbs of the trees before them.

Up ahead the forest began thinning out suddenly, coming abruptly to an end at a clearing that became more apparent with each of the captain's steps, the familiar cliff formation she had come to know bringing lightness to her heart that was barely dimmed by the shrieking cries of the many hollows below.

"Yeah, that's the one!"

"Aright."

A few well placed strides later found Toushiro leaping off of the nearest branch and towards the opening of the cave, Rukia noting with growing disdain the lack of barriers around the area. Still as she turned to look at the cave, she realized that these hadn't been completely put out but instead enclosed to a much smaller space—the cave itself.

She didn't wait for him then, but wriggled her way out of his grasp, nearly tripping over her own feet as she dazedly made a dead sprint for the entrance with Toushiro on her heels.

"Ashido? Aishido!" She knew his spells and nearly cried when the barrier-heavy entrance let her through without so much as a ripple.

Even now, probably lying half dead he had prepared for her return.

The inside of the cave was full of inky darkness that startled her into alertness, even as she probed around mentally for her friend's signature of reiatsu. How long had he been lying in the darkness by himself, hoping someone would show up? Even as the pangs from her self-induced head injury sent rods of pain hammering through her, Rukia refused to acknowledge it and instead clenched her jaw, pushing further into the darkness.

Ichigo—she was Ichigo now and she was strong and all heart and no pain.

It was close. . .a little to her right and flickering weakly, but it was there, and that's all that mattered to her.

Even without the kidou spell above to keep the small area lit, Rukia didn't hesitate to stumble forward towards where she was sure was the little area Ashido used for sleeping. It wasn't until she lightly probed with her fingers and found nothing but the soft moss beneath them that she became confused and alarmed once again, tripping and cursing as she caught herself above the strange thing lying beside the bed in her way.

Wait-

Her fingers ran down a familiar tuft of fur and she immediately allowed herself to collapse beside it.

"Ashido!" Somehow her hands found his face and she lifted his chin in one tiny palm while using the other hand to check his breathing. It was light but it was there, and so she shook him gingerly, stopping only when she heard a hissed warning to hurry up from outside the cave and finally remembered sheepishly that she wasn't alone.

The barrier had probably stopped the captain dead in his tracks at the entrance.

"Ashido wake up!" Another light shake and she felt movement, the shuffling abruptly jerking as pain overtook her companion and she felt his jaw clench in her hand.

"R-Ruki . . . a?"

Relief flooded through her tired body and she smiled in the darkness, tears springing to her eyes as she squeezed his shoulder lightly in greeting.

"Where are you hurt?"

A grunt of effort and then, "Is it. . . really you this time?"

The hand that she was trying to use to reach him stopped in the air, fingers curling into a fist and guilt welling within her.

"Y-yeah, it's me." She tried not to let her voice waver, even as she swallowed, forcing herself to concentrate on him and not the dizziness threatening to pull her under. The blood loss from her head injury was probably enough to begin inducing a shutdown of her body, urging her to hurry.

"Come on. . . we have to get you out of here and back home."

"You shouldn't be here." A small helpless chuckle.

"It's a little late for that, don't you-"

"Get out while you still can, Rukia!" The black haired girl scowled then.

"Tell me where he hurt you!"

"I'll be fine."

"I didn't ask if you're fine!" Even in the silence Ashido could feel the heaviness of the glare he was more than positive was aimed directly at him. Sighing heavily in defeat, his large hand searched for hers, bringing it down to his abdomen where her fingers immediately felt the blood. Other than the stiffening at her touch, Ashido offered no protest or complaint of pain.

"I'm just warning you now. . . I might blackout at the end of this so you better carry me."

Even as her fingers began to glow he argued, but her violet eyes were unwavering in the flickering green radiance. It wasn't until she threatened halfheartedly to smack him that Ashido caved, turning to the entrance where the light from outside pooled on the rocky floor.

"You better hurry. Your friend out there is going to have trouble soon, even with the cloaking spell he cast. The trail you two left is thick."

The black haired shinigami winced but otherwise offered no other indication that she had heard.

It was after all, her fault.

Ashido could see her eyes beginning to glaze over long before she finally collapsed in front of him. Still, it amazed him to look down and find the main stab wound quite healed to the point where he could ignore it just long enough to take on another battle, should need be. There would be blood as it was (on top of whatever amount he had already lost), but that was unavoidable. There wasn't a way the wounds wouldn't reopen unless he sat still and that just wasn't going to happen.

So taking one long, drawn out breath, the redhead clenched his jaw and took the unconscious Rukia in his arms, using the "bed" he had been leaning against to slowly get up on his feet. The world spun for a moment and he tipped dangerously, hissing as he practically crashed into the wall for support and tried not to collapse onto his knees again.

One last little effort, one final push was all this needed for him to finally leave this forsaken place.

And that last little push was lying in his arms.

When he came out with an unconscious Rukia, it didn't surprise him to find a blade instantly aimed at his neck and three Gillian already dissipating at their feet.

The blood had caked upon the torn robes of the tall man, hair an unsettling match to its shade falling over sharp silver eyes as they fell to the short captain. If there was any sense of urgency in his mind, he didn't show it, brows drawn and thin lips twisted in a frown that seemed more intuitive than outwardly aggressive.

Nonetheless, Toushiro took less of a liking to him than he thought he would for some reason.

"What the hell did you do to her?"

"She passed out from healing me."

A quick probe proved Rukia alive in his arms, albeit dangerously drained of reiatsu, and that was enough to get the captain moving once more.

"Name?"

"Ashido."

"Rukia said that you know how to leave this place. Lead the way."

"We're going into a very dense part of the forest; be ready." A frown, and teal eyes seemed to glimmer with a simmering challenge.

"Keep Rukia safe, guide the way, and leave the rest to me. The haori isn't just for show." Hyourinmaru was shifted then in his grip as he stared the other man down, waiting for him to go first, which Ashido didn't hesitate to do so.

And he wasn't kidding—that was the first thing Toushiro became aware of.

Leaping off of the right side of the cliff ledge and onto the nearest jagged white branches, they were soon well on their way with hundreds of different hollow signatures shifting towards them. It wasn't long until they were both forced to dive in different directions away from multiple cero shots that things began to go haywire, the white haired captain nearly losing it when Ashido was caught in a side attack.

For a moment the blood froze in his veins and all he could do was stare in shock as the redhead got up again from where he had crouched behind a small hollow skull he had raised, barely uncurling from his crouch before diving once more into a dodge.

Shunpo brought him to Toushiro's side, breath heavy as he took the skull in his one hand and hooked it back with one free arm onto the fur cape before turning to him seriously.

"These aren't just for show either."

The captain stood dumbstruck for a second before his features slid easily back into a familiar scowl and he followed Ashido onto another branch.

"How much farther?"

For a moment Ashido seemed to regard the forest ahead of them, an uneasy grimace marring his features. "Too far."

"Soten ni zase, Hyourinmaru!" Not a moment too soon Ashido turned his back to the sudden onslaught of cool reiatsu, shielding Rukia with his body as the glow died down.

A wide slash by Toushiro brought forth a wave of water that rippled to existence at his command and grew scales, roar thundering through them as a large ice dragon whipped to life with bright ruby eyes and the sound of crackling drawing their attention to the large flexing talons with which it tore into the thick jagged tree. The spirit coiled around it under its master's domination until the head was beside them, breath coming out in cold gusts from flared nostrils as it dug into the trunk and sent spidering cracks in all directions.

"Let me get on first or else it'll freeze you."

It was a mediocre (and totally new) idea, but right now they needed speed and really, Hyourinmaru might be the only way to do so in such a way that the trio could make it without losing anyone.

Stabbing the dragon behind the head with his sword, Toushiro poured his reiatsu into the blade and thus into the dragon, falling into a semi-meditative state as he tried to control the spirit beneath them.

"Get on!"

Ashido settled on behind the captain, Rukia held tightly in his arms as they took off at a speed that was easily double theirs on foot. Silver eyes caught the way the bark of the trees that came into contact with the dragon immediately bloomed icy flowers that spread tendrils hungrily in all directions and twinkled from the strange light of the trees of Menos Forest as they passed. Below them Gillian and smaller ranking hollows fought and killed or _were_ killed themselves as each tried to reach for the coiling serpentine spirit passing above them.

Even when some did manage to hit the dragon, immediately ice spread to cover the wound and leave the area as if nothing had ever happened. In this way they flew past many potential threats with barely a shudder of Hyourinmaru's body or an occasional burst of ice from its massive mouth.

But it wasn't without a price.

Not too long into the trip ice began to crawl slowly up the blade. The captain's hands were trembling, knuckles white and breaths increasingly becoming louder with exertion from keeping the shape of the dragon underneath them. And if his bare hands were any indication, there was a hint of frostbite already on his tanned fingers. His back was tense, from what Ashido could see, but it was the steep dips of his reiatsu that were alarming his fellow shinigami more than anything else.

They wouldn't make it.

Options, options, options! There were none! His mind told him even as he tried to rack through his brain, to search for something, _anything_ of a shortcut—

Maybe it was a sign from above, a pass of sorts from someone who liked them, or maybe it was sheer damn _luck_ but the cry of a hollow below caught his attention, eyes widening as a familiar tearing noise practically ripped through them and struck him with sudden urgency.

"DOWN! GO DOWN!"

Two hollows, small fry by the looks of it were crossing already into the abyss that would lead them to the other side, caught unaware by the sudden appearance of the dragon above them and so not even turning as the gate began to close behind them.

Toushiro, having heard the redhead opened his eyes and without a second thought willed the dragon to turn as he gripped the blade in his hands tighter, yelling from the effort as he poured forth more of his reiatsu. Through sheer determination he pressed it forward stubbornly even as the opening wove even more closed, looking much like a morbidly stitched mouth.

"DUCK!"

He didn't have to tell Ashido twice.

A moment later and the gate's edges would've closed on them, most likely severing limbs as it went. As it was, Ashido felt the vacuum as the gate sealed shut, jerking them back violently before dissipating back into the fabric that separated the different dimension.

It went suddenly quiet.

Having been in Menos Forest for so long, the silence struck Ashido as unsettling and if possible, a lot more forlorn than his small cave had ever been. He wasn't sure if the voices that echoed were in his head or around him, could barely distinguish the grunt of effort from the captain before him from the other cries that he felt resonated almost _inside_ them.

Before he could distinguish anything further, could reason through the possibilities, the hollows they had seen enter came into view as giant shadows (no longer quite small looking at such a direct back angle) through the pooling light of a full moon in a cloudless sky from a rift.

Seeing them seemed to give the white haired youth guiding them the resolve to push forth one last time, pouring a large swallow of power into the spirit that propelled them forward and passing them just inches above the heads of the two beings. A strong whip of the long blue tail and the two were dropped from the skies, ice from the lash of the dragon quickly spreading in tendril-like veins that soon covered the two and left them frozen in desperation until they shattered on the ground many miles below.

Immediately Ashido was overwhelmed by the many reiatsu signatures—_living beings_—below them, drinking in the lights of Karakura Town with wide, and certainly disbelieving eyes that blinked away the dryness of the wind produced from the speed of the dragon.

There was _warmth_ here.

A sudden shuddering breath from the captain, and then, "You're holding Rukia tightly, right?"

Tearing silver eyes away from the landscape he nodded even though the captain couldn't see.

"Yeah."

For a moment there was silence between them, Ashido feeling the shudder of the spirit and squinting against the whipping wind.

"Good."

Without so much as a warning, the white haired young man suddenly released his hold of the blade, tilting dangerously sideways as the dragon began to crumble to dust beneath them in the span of a single second.

The pull of the dragon's force that had jerked them forward fell away in agonizingly slow time before the jerk of gravity took over gracefully from below, tugging at his stomach and leaving him breathless.

They were freefalling.

* * *

_Fwap, fwap, fwap, fwap. _

His brow twitched.

What the hell was that noise?

_Fwap, fwap, fwap, fwap. _

If this was another of Matsumoto's little annoying pranks, there would be _hell_ to pay. He was **not** in the mood—not that he ever really was.

_Fwap, fwap, fwap, fwap._

Cracking an eye open in annoyance, it was much to his surprise to realize that it wasn't his ceiling (neither home or office) that he was by now openly staring at, as he figured it would be. Many had been the days he would wake up to find his desk and not his futon beneath him, and so that thought really would've been nothing new. The only problem was, this ceiling was definitely painted a different color than his (and there was no stain from one of Matsumoto's human pen ink explosions), and it took his brain a long moment to think of any singular possibilities that could lead to such a predicament.

"Imagine Afro-san's surprise when he's out on his rounds and then suddenly a captain practically falls into his awaiting arms." Cerulean eyes fell then to his left and Toushiro sighed, rubbing a bandaged hand over his face as Kisuke Urahara once again took up the idle flick of his fan.

_Fwap, fwap._

"What happened?"

"You fell from the sky." Was the smirking response. "Quite some height too."

He fell from the sky? What kind of _idiot_ did the shopkeeper—wait. . . he _did_ fall from the sky. In fact, he had fallen quite a distance—

"_You're holding Rukia tightly, right?" _

-but he hadn't been alone.

Turning to his right, Toushiro half expected to see Rukia lying there, but the futon was empty save for him. A strange feeling crept through him as the unbandaged pads of his fingers curled around the thin blanket.

"Where's Rukia and Ashido?"

"Back in Sereitei. As soon as big brother got word that Kuchiki-san was here, he came to take her with him. Ashido was awake at the time, so he was taken to explain what he could."

A frown. "Neither of them were in any state to be moving around."

For a moment the only sound between them was the fan being flicked methodically, an odd, almost whimsically curious expression on the shopkeeper's tilted face before serious eyes fell to his ward.

"There have been rumors circling Sereitei of late. . . I didn't think they would be of any consequence though. Seems Byakuya-san didn't agree with me and might be doing some damage control."

Toushiro's white brow furrowed.

Damage control? What kind of things could people say that could force a Kuchiki as stoic, as _unmovable_ as Byakuya to make a stir?

"What kind of rumors?"

Could it be possible that maybe Matsumoto had been chattering away about what they had discussed and it had been warped? Or maybe someone just didn't like either of them really much?

There were a few possibilities passing at the speed of light behind his bright gaze as he waited for more than a casual shrug of Kisuke's broad shoulders, picking idly now at the bandages on his hands.

"Well, if you were to believe what all of Soul Society is murmuring-" and here there was an unnerving pause where only the flap of the fan continued in a way that made the young captain scowl, "the Kuchiki princess is being put on the bidding block."

The wrinkles of the white haired youth's brow deepened as he tried to process what the blonde man had just said. After a long moment and sighing somewhat dramatically, Kisuke closed the fan shut with a deft flick of his wrist, bringing it to rest on the palm of his other hand before tilting his head at the captain with a grin.

"My, my, that fall must have done quite a number on you, captain."

He blatantly ignored the scathing glare aimed at him.

"Let me see if I can put it a little more simply for you: Rukia-san, Hitsugaya-taichou, is soon going to be looking for a husband."

Toushiro couldn't speak for a moment, caught unaware and really unsure as to how to react.

It wasn't like she was anything major in his life, was anyone of consequence really. But nonetheless there was something akin to _pity_ for her. Rukia getting married?

And knowing the traditions of such a noble and historical family, she would be wed to someone she didn't even know. So how would she take it? What would she do? By nature she was a hell-raiser, there was no doubt about that, so would there be an uproar worthy of her reputation?

"_That wasn't. . . your first, was it?" _

"_Uh, no, it uh, wasn't."_

And _what_ exactly . . . what did she think of what he _did_?

It wasn't of any consequence to him at all (of course it wouldn't be). Nonetheless, there was a tad bit of curiosity at knowing what exactly had run through her head in that moment. Would it in any way affect her view of him? When she woke up, would she even _remember_? And if she did, would it be something that made her linger by herself for a moment, lost in thought and blushing, or would she shrug it off and continue as if it wasn't anything worth the indulgence of thought past the time she would put focus on the weather?

Rukia seemed mature enough to take it as it was—he doubted it would be of any effect in her actions or thoughts, the captain reasoned silently.

So then why?

Why did that thought bother him?

* * *

Byakuya Kuchiki didn't linger.

He was a man with too much to do and no time to "frolic" (as his grandfather had deemed it during a lecture many years ago) and this time, with Rukia unconscious still would've been no different.

But this time he couldn't exactly refuse to deal with the change in circumstances.

The redhead before him shifted.

Rukia had always struck him as someone who, if left to her own devices, would bring home any and all strays she could find. In fact (he wasn't daft) he knew of the cat, three dogs, and a lizard that now lived in the servants' quarters thanks to her. And if his calculations were correct, there were two very happy rabbits chomping down on her side of the gardens (it didn't matter what the servants said, he knew it wasn't a mole in the house grounds).

Nonetheless, this was-_by far_- the biggest stray she could possibly ever take in; and it came in the form of a man.

Barefooted, shinigami robes that had obviously seen better years, spiky hair that fell over curiously calm pools of silver and brushed his long nose, skin pale and marred with the scars of war.

Oh—and nice little stains of dried blood decorating his form—couldn't forget those.

"Who are you?" It was a simple question that broke through the silence of the room as the vice captain of the fourth division began her healing ministrations on his sister, a murmured scolding making her assistant jump as his eyes strayed back from the two larger males sheepishly back to Rukia.

"My name is Ashido." No flinching, no cowering, no show of fear with the overbearing presence of the Kuchiki leader. A simple, concise answer, and yet instead of yielding the results he wanted, Byakuya was hard pressed not to let the rest of his query simply spill from his lips.

"How do you know Rukia?"

"When she fell into the Menos Forest, I helped her escape."

This feeling was not reassuring. This "you-saved-my-sister-so-I-might-owe-you" feeling. It made him hesitate if only for a moment, because he remembered Rukia once mentioning the forest in minor detail upon the ending of the winter war.

But she never mentioned a man involved—and for some reason that bothered him a little more than he would like to acknowledge.

"Why is she in this state?" _Are you responsible for this?_

Ashido wasn't stupid, he could see the dangerous aura a mile away, but the thought of having a conversation was still warming and odd to him and so it didn't bother him in the least like it should've to be insulted so openly by two captains—not that he didn't return the first jab towards the white haired short one earlier . . .that one was kind of hard to resist.

"The captain and her were lured into Menos Forest by a Gillian. By the time they reached me, she was already in a bad state but she didn't fall unconscious until she performed a healing spell."

For a moment it seemed more like a staring contest than anything else, but then Byakuya stirred, getting up and turning his attention back to the pair checking his sister's vitals.

As if sensing their stare, Isane turned then, Hanatarou readjusting the pillow behind Rukia's head before following suit behind the vice captain.

"She'll be fine. There was enough blood loss that it would've been a problem, but it looks like whoever tended to her immediate wounds did a good job and stopped the bleeding. Her reiatsu was really low but that has been taken care of, so the rest of the healing will be slow until her body can stabilize that. As of right now I can do no more until that stability has been reached."

There was a moment of silence, and then the captain of the sixth division nodded to the vce captain before turning on his heel and beginning to head for the door.

"You would do well to follow me." He threw over his shoulder before continuing.

The silver haired lieutenant opened her mouth to protest (Ashido had after all not been tended to yet) but was stopped when the redhead raised a hand to stop her mid rant and instead lightly thanked her for caring so well for Rukia, promptly walking out of the room to follow Byakuya.

For a moment her and Hanatarou listened as his bare feet padded on the wood until it finally faded into the other sounds of the division, the short young man turning to his superior.

"I've never seen him before, have you Kotetsu-fukutaichou?"

His brow was furrowed in worry for the young woman in the bed. This wasn't the first time she had been unconscious under his watch, and certainly her circumstances were always strange, but this. . . this was definitely different than her past incidents. Isane simply shrugged.

"Kuchiki-san seems to keep very strange friends."

And try as he might, Hanatarou couldn't agree more—even if he knew he was included in that bunch.


	12. When My Heart Is Split Like Rio III

**A/N: **So this took me forever. . . yeah. Sorry guys. Meant to have this out sooner but work and school just took over everything else! Plus Hitsugaya was being difficult. Said something about getting sick of Ukitake going into his dressing room and leaving candy for him to find all over the place.

I'll have to take care of that later.

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

* * *

_

**When My Heart Is Split Like Rio III

* * *

**

Things quickly slipped back to normal for Captain Toushiro Hitsugaya, falling back into the mundane as soon as he stepped through the office doors and peered at the horrendously sky-scraper-high piles of paperwork awaiting his return.

A sigh.

Was it sad that he still held out some hope in the back of his mind that one day Rangiku Matsumoto would own up to her age and _mature_?

A snore from his left and he didn't even bother to twitch.

It wasn't worth his effort-that much of a conclusion he had drawn already in the mere five minutes within his domain.

So instead of even bothering to throw something, or yell, or do anything of the sort, he went to his desk and as calmly as he could get himself to, sat down. The area was as he left it (except of course the piles had grown) and so it took him no time to find his office supplies and setting it in place before finally getting to work.

Minutes . . .

They trickled agonizingly into hours that passed in near silence with only thoughts and his sprawled lieutenant's constant shuffling as constant companions. As it was he already had too much to do, but even the worst of each report could do little to quell the growing uneasiness that seeped under his skin.

It wasn't a feeling of something bad, so he really wasn't sure how to categorize it. It didn't leave a gaping hole in the pit of his stomach, didn't send chills down his spine, couldn't even make him tense.

This was _different_.

The question was, _how_ was it different and _why_?

As to the how part, he wasn't really sure. He felt normal. _Too_ normal. Nothing was wrong, nothing was broken, there wasn't any maniac on the loose in Sereitei. . . not even a chicken was loose from the fourth division coop.

It was. . . boring again.

Matsumoto had not seemed to have caused too much trouble at his departure (after all the building was still standing) and there was nothing to be worried or angry about. Momo was still in a coma from the winter war (had been for three months) and he didn't really see any change in her the last time he went before he left with Rukia for the human world.

Rukia.

How was she? How was Ashido?

Somehow, the thought of the both of them stirred a strange emotion in him. Ashido had been a smartass but after being in a damn cave in the middle of nowhere for God only knows how long, then a few remarks out of line weren't that big of a deal. Toushiro almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Instead, it might be a little safer to say that he could care less about him. Yes he was a promising shinigami with a bright future now that he returned as a hero (as Matsumoto would later confirm from the uproar he would cause in the SWA), but still, he was just Ashido.

However, once again the same link that had bound Sereitei to Karakura Town came into play.

Rukia.

Once again, she had inadvertently become a major character in recent events. How the hell was it that she wormed her way into everything? She was small, had a strong personality, and had been nothing but another orphan on the streets until Byakuya had picked her up—definitely not major role material.

And yet she was.

The captain shifted in his chair as he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger as he felt a headache coming on.

He really needed to stop making his thoughts so complicated.

For a while he stayed like that, forcing himself back into the rhythm of monotony until it began to become somehow soothing in all its dullness. Finally it began to seem as if every event before that moment took a back seat to what was in front of him and he found himself, if only for a moment, at peace.

"Taichooouuuuu! You're back!" Came the surprised chirp from the couch as Matsumoto sat up, rubbing at a bleary eye.

Did he say a moment? He meant a _second_.

"Yes, Matsumoto, I'm back. Now get yourself into that chair-" He jabbed a finger in the direction of her desk. "-and get started because those stacks aren't going anywhere."

Pouting, Rangiku let out a low whine as she laboriously dragged herself off of the couch and shuffled over to her desk, scratching lazily at her scalp.

"Nice to see you're in a good mood." Was the dark mutter as she plopped down loudly into her chair.

Her only response was a firm glare.

Somehow time passed then. The hours from that day slowly pulled the captain back into the viciously repetitive cycle of paperwork and he found it hard to keep track of the days other than by the little time stamp set on the corner of his desk for each report by the secretary.

It was completely effortless and surprising then to come in one day and find that the date he had placed on a report revealed it to be Friday morning. Not a single thing worth looking into had happened in Sereitei in that one week, he realized with disdain, and it certainly would not be happening today if his theory was correct.

At least that was what he thought until he saw his lieutenant stroll in casually at **_eight in the morning_** for work, quite sober and happy.

If she had grown a second head, his eyes wouldn't be able to go any wider.

"Hullo, taichoouuuu!" And before he could move out of the way he was grabbed in a suffocating bear hug. Trying in vain to push her away, his face quickly turned red with the effort until the suction cup that was his well endowed companion finally released him with a shove that sent him stumbling.

"Guess what?"

He would've answered with a smart retort but was rendered speechless as she casually strolled to her desk and sat down, tidying up her work area as she spoke (completely unaware of the state of her captain).

"I'm going on a daaaate!"

His brow twitched.

A sigh.

"You're working. I like him already."

Rangiku gave her best dry glare but couldn't hold it for long as she slipped into a wide grin.

"Yep. That was his only condition. That I finish my work so we can go out together."

"Well then, don't let me get in the way." Toushiro muttered as he headed over to his own desk. He had barely settled in before Rangiku looked up at him once more, this time in a conspiratory manner. If he didn't know any better, he would swear that this was the look she gave any of her girlfriends before she let them in on some juicy gossip.

He tried to ignore it as he took the first stroke of the brush on a report.

"I saw Kuchiki-taichou and his sister pass by yesterday."

For a moment the brush hesitated mid-signature.

"Oh? I assume she is finally well?"

The ink stroke continued fluidly, but the white haired youth noticed the waver in the black trail upon the report and he frowned.

"I don't know. . . there seems to be something different about her. I think something's wrong."

Matsumoto was leaning on the edge of her desk, elbows propped up and one hand holding her chin as the other waved the dry brush idly in the air, brows raised high as she waited for a response.

"Maybe it has to do with that rumor going around?"

What would it matter to him? She was simply a subordinate, a young woman caught up in the tangled webs of those high brow clans, and now for every spoon they fed her she was paying her own price.

"_That wasn't . . . your first, was it?"_

But there it was—an inkling of _something_ there.

The memory had all but blurred in his mind until now, coming back as sharply as that day when they had fallen through the hole and hidden from the arrancar. Suddenly it wasn't Matsumoto sitting in the other desk, wasn't anyone but the woman who had occupied a tiny crevice in the middle of nowhere (in his mind) and almost killed herself to save a friend.

Wide violet eyes, pale skin flushed and showing even in the shadows.

Neither breathing in the darkness as the trembling of their enemy's footsteps fell in rhythm with the quaking of his world. The inky tresses twined in his fingers when he pulled her forward and instinctively his hand clenched at the memory, drawn to the darkest of black tangled once among the crooks of his digits.

"What do you think, taichou? Honestly, I don't think she's ready for marriage with anyone."

Toushiro didn't look up from his work like Matsumoto expected him to. He kept his head bowed over the report (something about inventory), brow furrowed in focus but eyes strangely distant.

_"I. . . didn't mean to do that."_

"Why would that matter to us, Matsumoto?" Was the waspish, resolute reply.

Frustrated, the captain looked up and glared at his lieutenant before jabbing his brush in her direction. "Don't you think you should be focusing more on your work than stupid office gossip? We need to have over half of this work done by tomorrow morning and I don't see you putting the slightest dent into your part!"

"Alright, alright, calm down. I was just filling you in, ya know?"

They fell into a rhythmic silence where only the brushes, shuffling of papers, and occasional sigh could be heard. It had almost settled into something akin to peace before Matsumoto decided to give it another try. Baby blue eyes shifted then to the captain slyly, her voice calm and offhand as she put an overly flourished signature on a document.

"There's no suitor yet."

Silence-_true_ silence-met her statement then as cerulean eyes regarded her warningly behind a hooded gaze.

"I don't care."

It unsettled him to notice his vice captain openly grinning. Nonetheless, that was the least of his worries as he suddenly came to two conclusions in the span of those few seconds.

One: he was sort of (just the tiniest of bits) lying.

And two: somewhere in his mind, he was beginning to think that he kind of _did_ mean to kiss Rukia Kuchiki—but for some reason, that thought wasn't unsettling at all.

* * *

"It's a little too early to be daydreaming, don't you think Rukia-sama?"

Blinking, Rukia turned with a half smile to look up at the servant standing beside her. Pale feet swung idly from the edge of the small wooden bridge over the koi pond outside of her room, toes skimming the water and leaving small ripples in their wake. Her hair was dripping still from the long shower she had taken, little rivulets forming on her skin as she shifted and wrapped herself a bit more in the snug bathroom robe.

"I do not think your brother would appreciate you feeding his koi your toes."

"Okay, okay, I get it—no toes in the water."

Ever since she had woken up, Rukia began to wonder if in reality this was the nightmare. It was like being back in the academy, with people talking and whispering behind her back—some even having the guts to point. Her brother had prepared her for the rumors; ridiculous things that he assured her held only one inkling of truth, which he eloquently informed her of being that a _Kuchiki_ had to get married to assure an heir.

But Rukia was no idiot, she could read her brother's silence better than anyone and she knew that there was more he wasn't telling her.

But one look into his stoic gaze and suddenly she didn't have the heart to ask.

So she had clamped her mouth shut and instead tried not to listen, to escape the whispers of even some of the people who would say hi to her warmly every morning. But try as she might the thoughts festered in her heart and left a dark feeling within that loomed over her heavily for the few days after their return.

And then there was the captain.

It wasn't until she had nothing but her own thoughts as company in the recovery wing of the fourth division that it really hit Rukia that what she had done, and consequently what one Hitsugaya-taichou had done, was all real.

He _had_ kissed her.

And try as she might, the black haired young woman just couldn't shrug it off.

There were so many things that she had just ignored—was that the true personality of the captain showing through? Was there a side to him that no one knew? And why, of all people, would he show it to her?

He had caught her so off guard—

"—sama?"

"Huh? Sorry, Setsuna. I got lost there for a minute, what was that?"

"I was asking you if you were alright. Though I do believe that answers my question quite clearly. Now tell me," She said, coming to kneel primly beside Rukia as she smoothed down her knee-length plain pink kimono, "what is on your mind, Rukia-sama?"

Frowning, Rukia could do no more than shrug before turning her gaze from her rippling reflection in the water towards the side, admiring the beauty of her brother's gardens as she tried to make sense of her meanderings into words.

Try as she might, she could not bring herself to bring up the topic of her brother. It was something lurking under the surface, worrying her, but she knew it was a matter that was almost at her fingertips if she only knew where to look. On top of that, even though she fully trusted the maid, this was something that the petite shinigami almost felt special for knowing—something that, as troublesome as it may be, was a thing she knew from her heart to be concrete proof of the tie between the two siblings, a reflection of the deepening bond with Byakuya—something she was more than a little reluctant to share.

So she chose instead to focus on the little nugget of curious happenings that was her trip to the human world.

"What if. . . someone who you really respect. . . well—no not really because that would imply knowing him really well—what if someone who you respect as your superior, who you got to know better through work. . . what if he did something that caught you off guard?"

For a moment Setsuna regarded Rukia with a look akin to suspicion.

Had something bad happened to Rukia-sama on her mission? Would she have to break her master's trust and bring up the issue to Lord Byakuya? No, she must not jump to conclusions—she had to tread carefully here, lest there truly be some delicate issue at hand.

Already her having brought it up meant that it was urgent and something intimate that she didn't seem to have shared with anyone else, judging by the way she avoided her servant's gaze.

So Setsuna jumped straight to the point.

"Is there something that happened on that mission, Rukia-sama?" The young woman gave no reaction but a small twitch of her fingers. If Setsuna didn't know any better, her keen brown eyes wouldn't have caught the young woman's attempts not to fidget (as she was prone to do when nervous).

A superior. . . who was with her on that mission again? It was a captain, but who? Obviously not her brother, or her own captain (Ukitake, who was prone to sporadically visit both siblings and had done so during Rukia's recuperation), so then who?

It was time to backtrack a little.

"It was a captain, I presume?" Sighing, Rukia braced herself on the hands she placed behind her, leaning back to look up at the sky.

"Yeah." She answered after a moment of staring out at the endless blue.

"And which captain was this?"

"Hitsugaya Toushiro of the tenth division." Not that a servant needed to bother with such trivialities, so saying his division meant next to naught to Setsuna. But still—the name was known far and wide for the prowess of said young man both on the battlefield and off—a prodigy rare and true.

"Ah, I see." She had seen him maybe once or twice when Lord Byakuya had taken office matters at home—a white haired youth about her own master's age, with hair as white as the moon and eyes that sparked with zeal and intelligence. He looked barely older than a youngling, but the way he carried himself had imprinted his memory upon all who could enter the room.

But as much as an awed impression as he had left on her, the maid tried to stay unbiased as she considered her master's words and tried to connect the pieces together.

"And what, pray tell, could such a young man do that left you so shaken?"

Surely he couldn't have tried to take advantage of Rukia-sama—

"He kissed me."

-Or maybe he had.

"Was this . . . forced?"

For a moment Rukia frowned, biting her lip as she tried to answer. Her eyes were still firmly on the cloudless sky.

"It wasn't. . . anything romantic."

"Were you drowning?"

"No."

Well, that was about as logical as one could get with that. Was there any other reason to kiss someone to get something other than anything romantically linked to the gesture?

Surely not.

"Then why did he. . ._act_ in such a way?"

"I wouldn't shut up."

At this, the brown eyes of the calm maid widened considerably as they shot to the much calmer shinigami beside her. For a moment she lost her composure as she nearly screeched, "WHAT?" making Rukia jump in surprise as she turned to try and amend her poor choice of wording.

"Well, okay let me explain the situation before you run to my brother and scream for revenge." The look the maid gave her would've made even the sturdiest of shinigami cower. "It just happened so quick that really I didn't think about it until we got back."

"Well, you best go on and tell me quickly, Rukia-sama, unless you want to be late to your duties this morning." An excuse to usher the young woman into her story faster, even though Setsuna knew Rukia could feel the over protectiveness coming off in waves from her. Especially now that it seemed to be something a bit more delicate than what the blue haired maid had originally expected—on top of the fact that she did actually feel a little (a lot) undignified for her master.

Surely captain Hitsugaya couldn't be such a horribly perverted young man, could he? Or had the hormones suddenly gone to his head?

With a hand scratching lightly at her neck, Rukia began to recount from the beginning of the mission, sparing no detail until finally she reached the part where her own mind was stuck before looking up at Setsuna with expectant eyes, curiously awaiting a reaction from the poised young woman but getting none in the sudden silence that followed.

"Well . . . ?" Was the impatient prod.

_"As soon as Rukia comes home, I need you to start preparing her for an engagement."_

The words of Rukia's brother, the lord of the manor echoed in Setsuna's head even as she turned towards her charge slowly. "I really. . . don't know. From what I have seen of him, Hitsugaya-sama never struck me as someone to do anything. . ."-here she minutely scrunched her nose in thought- ". . . _rash_."

Frowning, Rukia lifted her feet off of the edge of the small bridge and made to get up.

"All I know," Setsuna said, placing a gentle hand on Rukia's shoulder to stop her, "Is that you must thank him, at least for not having left you to die like he could've."

Sighing heavily, Rukia turned to smile weakly at the maid. She felt as Setsuna's petite hand gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, I know."

"Then we must hurry so you can see to your duties and to Hitsugaya-sama."

Ever graceful, the maid got up quietly, completely unaware of the sudden hesitation in her companion's movements.

_Do you suppose I'm thinking this over too much, Shirayuki?_

The petite shinigami stood only a moment longer before following Setsuna inside, thoughts clouding her mind as she prepared, unsettled by the quiet of the spirit residing in her soul. If someone were to ask her what she had had for breakfast, or if she had even bothered—if the cook greeted her as he usually did, or was too busy to do even that, the young Kuchiki noble would be hard pressed to answer.

_I'm sure he meant no harm, Rukia-sama. _Was the answer suddenly given as she stared one last time into the mirror in her room. _That alone I can assure you. Everything else, I think would need more time for us to figure out._

People passed, servants bowed, Sode no Shirayuki whispered reassurance on deaf ears, and the sun had barely began to climb on its trek across the expanse of the sky as Rukia Kuchiki made her way by sheer routine to her division.

There were too many thoughts plagued by a broad back with black ink splashed over a white haori—with eyes that spoke volumes, and a coat draped over her shoulders—with the deep timbre of a voice she had only heard but a handful of times aimed at her.

_You can't close yourself off and pretend nothing happened; to just shrug it off because of what I told you, am I right?_

She was too caught up with the hand that ghosted at the nape of her neck and pulled her in for an unexpected kiss.

_Having feelings isn't against the rules, Rukia-sama._

* * *

"Ah! There you are!" Freezing at the doorway, Rukia blinked stupidly for a second as her captain approached her with a stack of papers in his hands. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yes, I did Ukitake-taichou, thank you for asking."

"I'm glad." Was the smiling reply.

Violet eyes fell then to the handful of papers once again before rising to meet the brown eyes of her captain. "Is there something you need of me, Ukitake-taichou?"

"Actually, now that you mention it, there is." Sheepishly Ukitake grinned down at her. "I sent Kiyone and Sentarou out on a mission but now I don't have anyone to deliver these."

Well, it was no wonder it was thinking-level quiet.

"Oh, no problem, I'll do it for you, sir."

"Thank you, you'd be doing me a huge favor. Kyouraku-san is due to come in for tea any moment and if I leave he would get very upset."

Rukia smiled. "Consider it done, sir."

"Thanks again, Rukia-san. The top three reports need to go to the seventh division, the next to fourth, and the last two to tenth."

Something must have shown on her face because immediately the frail man caught it and his expression melted into one of worry.

"Something wrong, Rukia-san?"

"Ah! No, nothing." She said, flushing with embarrassment. "It's nothing, still feeling a bit out of it I guess. Don't worry, I'll take care of these." She lifted the stack in front of her for emphasis.

The white haired captain eyed her apprehensively for a moment. "Are you sure? Because I can just-"

"No, there's no need for you to further trouble yourself, sir. Don't worry, I'll have these delivered right away."

"Alright, and thanks again." The petite shinigami bowed to her captain respectfully before offering him a grin and disappearing through the door, feeling his soft brown eyes on her back until she disappeared from view. It wasn't until she reached the outer doors of her division that Rukia finally let out a breath she didn't even realize had been caught in her throat.

Why was it that the one division she wanted to avoid for a while had now become the one she needed to visit? Was some higher power against her?

_Maybe it's better this way. Thoughts like this shouldn't be allowed to just linger, or they'll surely drive you insane. _

Well, it might be a little too late to save her sanity.

And besides, she had a bit of time to think about what she would do, seeing as she had to visit two other divisions before then. Of course, trying to find the shortest route would be the smartest alternative but seeing as the tenth division would then fall second to seventh, the idea was a little less appealing.

Rukia settled on fourth division first then, not dawdling even though she felt the need to drag her feet and refusing politely to have a quick checkup after Isane took the reports from her. Her trip to seventh was uneventful as well, the captain taking the reports from her personally before asking briefly about Ichigo and (surprisingly) chatting up pleasantries before briefly sending her on her way.

It wasn't until she had silently let herself out and her fingers released the now closed shoji door that it hit her that she hadn't really thought of anything on her way through either division. Frowning at her own inability to even concentrate enough on that, she began her walk slowly towards the last of her destinations.

Maybe she was over thinking this.

Her steps were light as she jumped up onto a roof and stood there for a moment.

_But if you don't speak to him, you won't know._

The reports fluttered in her hand, and for the first time that day Rukia Kuchiki looked up to the sky with curious eyes. Her gaze roved over the thick clouds in the distance, noting how they were quickly heading towards Sereitei with lightning sparking through the thick of them and lighting them in fiery hues that took her breath away.

For some reason, it soothed her.

Maybe she _was_ over analyzing what had happened.

Closing her eyes, the black haired young woman tried to clear her head for a moment, taking in a deep breath that she almost forgot to release when she felt a light tap on the flap of her robe, near her elbow. Looking down, she raised the sleeve but saw nothing and figured it to be a bug, sighing before smoothing down the reports and coming to the conclusion she better get back to her own division soon, lest her captain worry.

So she jumped onto the next roof, and soon onto the next until a few minutes later she was standing silently before the doors of the tenth division. It took her a moment to steel her nerves, swallowing and hugging the files to her chest before going to slide the shoji doors open, only to have them wrenched open for her and having something big ram into her.

"Oh! Kuchiki-san, so sorry, didn't see you there!"

"M-matsumoto-fukutaichou, good morning." Rukia replied from the ground, a hand on her smarting nose. Somehow she had managed to only lose one piece of paper which she quickly gathered while trying hard not to let her eyes water from the pain.

"I just came to deliver these from the thirteenth division-"

"I'm actually done for the day, so if you want to set them on the desk, I'll be on my way, okay? Be a dear and tell Hitsugaya-taichou I'm done, will ya? Thanks!" And before Rukia could even utter a word, the busty blonde had disappeared around a corner and surely was well on her way to the closest bar.

A sigh.

"Yes ma'am." Rukia muttered.

She didn't even bother to try and gather her nerve again, instead trudging inside slowly and coming to find (with major relief) that she was alone. Where the captain had gone Matsumoto hadn't mentioned and so Rukia found it tempting to just leave the reports there and run.

_Five minutes, _the petite shinigami thought as she looked around, _I'll give him five minutes. _

So the young Kuchiki noble shuffled nervously from foot to foot for a moment before finally deciding it best to sit. Plopping down on one corner of the couch, she set the reports in her lap before demurely placing her small hands on top of them.

The twitching of her own thumb caught her attention for a moment, and so with nothing better to do, Rukia looked at her hands—_really_ looked at them for a moment.

They weren't a noble's hands—that was the first thought that came to her mind. Yes, the skin was soft but it was marred with scratches, with tiny pale scars that sometimes crisscrossed over each other like the scribbles of a child. The light pink of her nails were clean but short and slightly jagged; a sign of use, of roughhousing, and the constant grit of a life spent with the very basic (but constant) need to survive.

She wasn't delicate and prim.

Rukia wasn't raised with a silver spoon and every once in a while that thought became glaringly apparent in a way that boiled under her skin, sent frustration looming like a cloud over her head and made her feel almost incompetent. Like when she stared at her own reflection in the mirror, or when she passed a fellow female shinigami and wondered how someone could give such a definitive air of femininity in such a coarse and downright cruel environment such as this.

Because try as she might, even with the violet of her large eyes on her hands, she couldn't see it.

"Yes, Rukia, you have ten fingers and they all come attached to your hand." To her credit, the petite shinigami didn't jump. Unfortunately she did visibly stiffen, jerking her head around to see the white haired captain of the tenth division standing behind the sofa with tan arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised.

"N-nice to see you too, sir." Was the muttered reply as she got up from her perch with her head ducked to try and hide the blush.

"I assume those are for me?"

She simply nodded as he held out a hand. Soundlessly the young woman relinquished her hold of the stack as he took a firm hold on it, not once meeting his gaze.

"Something wrong?" He asked, noting her faraway expression.

Violet orbs slipped to him for a second, lips pressed lightly together as something strange flashed through the pools of emotion that were her eyes. For a long, drawn out moment he couldn't breathe in the sudden scrutiny of her gaze, a sensation he couldn't quite pin down urging him to take a small step forward towards her. For what purpose, he couldn't even begin to fathom even as he seriously considered it.

But then she turned away and the spell was broken.

"No, I'm fine. Just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry if I discomforted you in any way."

"It's. . . nothing." His gaze was heavy on her form, noting how her violet eyes fell on anything in the room but him and it disconcerted the white haired youth more than he cared to acknowledge.

It was like being back in that little hole.

Inky black on tan fingers. . .

Racing hearts . . .

Awkward stillness.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou said to let you know she was done for the day."

"That's fine."

Silence.

"Ukitake-taichou sends his regards."

"At least he didn't send candy this time."

"And those reports-"

"Is there something I did that would merit you acting so strange?" The annoyance was plain on his face as Toushiro headed towards his desk with an irritated (how was that even _possible_?) stride and put the papers neatly in front of his chair before turning and leaning on the edge of the table, arms crossing in a business-like manner as he regarded her.

Usually he wouldn't be bothered by such behavior from inferior ranking shinigami, but this was Rukia—a woman who always looked people in the eye and had never, to his knowledge, stood as demurely as she did now.

A woman who not once evaded his presence or _feared_ him.

Whether it was shock at the forwardness or just the fact that Rukia had never experienced any scenario like this before (had someone read through her so _quickly_), the young black haired woman stood rooted to the spot much like an awkward child, swallowing. When she had stood from the couch she didn't know, but her fingers itched at her sides to fiddle with something.

She clenched them into fists.

"I-I . . . no, sir, you did nothing wrong."

Silence then, his gaze never leaving her form as thoughts raced behind the brightness of his teal eyes and a frown marred his features. For a moment she too returned the stare, wondering what exactly he was thinking over so fervently before being unable to take the sheer nakedness of her soul in front of the examination and turned away once more.

"It's that rumor going around, that's what's bothering you isn't it?"

There wasn't an inkling of sarcasm in the gesture that followed. His surprise was great enough for him to unconsciously raise white brows at the sound of her light chuckle. It was a small, sad sound that filled the air between them and left her looking defeated for a moment as she shrugged.

"How can something that I've spent years dealing with, bother me anymore?"

"I don't know." He replied. "You tell me."

_I believe_, Sode no Shirayuki whispered suddenly, _it is time to cut our losses, Rukia-sama._

The petite shinigami could not agree more.

"It would not be something worthy of your time, sir. Now if you will excuse me, I have tasks that require my attention." Bowing hastily, Rukia swiveled on her heel and made to leave.

There were so many things running through Toushiro's mind at a speed that even he could barely comprehend in that moment.

Why was she still trying to be so unbreakable? Why did it matter that she was avoiding him so much? Why did someone who but a week ago had been so _insignificant_ to his existence suddenly make him drop everything he had been doing, everything that was calling loudly for his attention, just to force an answer out of her?

Why, why, **_why_**?

But if there was one thing that he knew for sure, it was the single repeated undercurrent in every thought:

**_Stop her. _**

Rukia was nearly out the door when the captain of the tenth division decided to speak again, eyes twin pools of liquid ice in the sudden stillness.

"I was born in Junrinan and raised by my grandmother. Hinamori . . . I grew up with her."

She froze.

He took a step forward.

"My favorite fruit is watermelon, and I kind of do like those things you got me at that one restaurant."

Rukia couldn't help the smile that started creeping onto her features. Still, she didn't turn.

"Pancakes, sir."

"Yeah. . . those things. I think you're brave for eating Inoue's cooking-"

"It's not that bad once you get used to it."

"-And that you should go take a walk with me so I can have an excuse to get away from here again."

_And so we can talk. _

There was hesitance as Rukia finally turned to acknowledge him. Her eyes reflected the question looming in her mind (_why are you doing this?_) even as thin fingers slipped from the edge of the doorframe and she regarded him over one shoulder.

"Is that a suggestion or an order?"

Toushiro cleared his throat, shifting slightly from foot to foot as he muttered, "Take it as you will."

Rukia moved out of the way as he brushed past her more in surprise and pure reflex than anything, blinking at his slowly retreating back before snapping out of it with a harsh shake of her head. Pulling the shoji doors of the tenth division offices closed behind her, the small Kuchiki trotted after the captain.

After a moment of only hearing their sandals scuffling in the dirt, Rukia couldn't take it anymore. "Where are we going?"

For a moment she thought maybe he hadn't heard her, at least until she heard his sigh.

"I don't know."

". . . oh."

"Is Ukitake expecting you back soon?"

"Well, he's having tea with Kyouraku-taichou, so I don't think he'll even remember."

"Good."

Violet eyes scrutinized the back of the captain as he walked, wondering what exactly he meant but unable to push the question out. So she followed in complete silence, losing herself once more to thought.

"Do you always like walking behind people?"

She stopped.

"Sorry?" The petite shinigami asked with a furrowed brow. Her mind, already awhirl with the possible implications of this new predicament could barely keep up with the actions of the young man before her. For a moment she just stood there until finally his words trickled through her system and then finally, she looked up at the captain who had stopped but a few feet away from her.

"Yeah," Toushiro replied, arms crossing, "do you always walk behind whoever's with you?"

Tilting her head slightly, Rukia could do little but scratch at the back of her head as she shrugged.

"Most of the people I'm around are usually of higher rank . . .so yes, I guess so."

"Well stop it." Noting her raised brows, he offered his ever-convincing reasoning with a small frown. "It's annoying."

Rukia was at a loss for words—had been for a while now.

"I ... apologize, Hitsugaya-taichou." Was the small, hesitant reply.

"Hitsugaya-san."

Now he thoroughly had her floored.

"Excuse me?" Forming those two words was the hardest thing the petite shinigami had done in a while. She was so beyond confused now and seriously considering the possibility of having fallen into a parallel universe (or a dream, she could still be at Urahara's recuperating)—surely stranger things had happened, yes?

"Hitsugaya-_san_. Got used to you saying my name like that in the human world. Bothers me."

". . . . okay. I'm sorry. . . Hitsugaya-tai—_san_."

Without another word he swiveled and continued, wide violet eyes the only thing following for a moment until Rukia finally shook free of her reverie and once again trotted to catch up to him—this time, coming to nearly brush shoulders with the short captain.

The itch to ask where they were headed nagged at Rukia persistently once more even though she was well aware he had as much of a clue to their destination as her (i.e. none). Still, it was something to say to fill in the tiny space between them (which she was hyperaware of) and possibly a chance to figure out something else—a different angle on her companion.

Because on the surface things hadn't changed—he was still a captain, she a shinigami inferior, and nothing had been brought to her attention as any sign that he had any sort of interest in changing that relationship in any other sort of manner. Maybe he didn't consider her a friend. But that was something Rukia could understand, at the very least.

_Hitsugaya_. . . –_san_.

He had gotten used to her calling him by his last name like that? Even in her mind it sounded strange and disrespectful. She almost felt ashamed to _think_ it.

But he preferred it that way.

"I've never been here."

His words tore at the weak rhythm in her head, gaze roving the area and really seeing it for the first time. How her feet had carried her here was something to marvel at even as they stood still for a moment and tried to get reoriented.

They had somehow begun walking towards the outskirts of Sereitei—not hard considering the location of the tenth division. Consequently, it was effortless to reach the more wild areas fencing their small city, the perfectly manicured grass giving way to gently sloping hills dotted with trees, wild brush, and wildflowers. A tranquil lake a few yards away caught Rukia's attention and she was suddenly disappointed the sun had decided to leave—it would've been a wondrous sight with the right lighting.

They trudged to the top of a hill effortlessly and stopped to take in the view without so much as a word between them. The white haired youth was motionless as his eyes fell on the landscape, gray skies reflected in his calm gaze.

"Storm's coming." Came the small voice from beside him.

The captain regarded Rukia through a quick sideways glance, noting how much calmer she seemed at the thought of the torrential rain that could fall upon them at any moment in the near future. Her violet eyes had slipped closed and the deep breath she took visibly relaxed her tiny shoulders and the clenched fists at her sides.

"Is that one of your zanpaktou's abilities?"

Her eyes opened slowly once more as if she was savoring the fading silence and the last of that trickling second, gaze slipping in a glance towards him before shrugging halfheartedly, head tilting in thought for a moment as she chose best how to reply.

"Well, sort of. Sode no Shirayuki always loved the feeling storms brought. It's like wrath . . . a power she can feel in the air that kind of reminds her she's alive."

"Funny—she didn't strike me as the power hungry type when I first saw her." It went without saying which incident he was referring to and so Rukia simply raised her shoulders slightly in another shrug as she began to follow Toushiro down the hill and towards the edge of the lake, close to an ancient willow that draped into the water.

"Shirayuki is kind, don't get me wrong." She said, sidestepping a small bush distractedly. "But she likes the feeling that comes with the call of battle just as much as the next person. It makes her feel like for once, she's in control."

The captain muttered something under his breath and even though Rukia caught a snippet sounding much like "_same's the owner_" she didn't call him out on it, much too calmed by the tension of the storm in the air to really care of what jabs he might take at her.

So instead she turned the question on him.

"What about yours?"

Her eyes followed Toushiro's form as he reached the willow and picked his way through weaving roots deftly, finding a small niche by the trunk and plopping down before leaning his head back with closed eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

White brow furrowed, the young man contemplated for a moment how best to answer.

"Tough. He can have quite a temper, but for the most part he's quiet. Doesn't like to get involved much unless necessary."

Rukia eyed the lower limbs of the willow as she tried to find herself a place to sit, biting down the smart remark that was about to leave her lips.

_Same's the owner, eh?_

She could feel Shirayuki's smirk.

The captain of the tenth division heard more than saw the shaking of the tree limbs, small leaves showering him (and everything around) in green. Plucking a leaf off quickly, teal eyes rose to the limbs of the tree above him before his hands began to brush off the rest of the attack on his hair.

"Rukia, what the hell are you doing?"

More shaking of the limbs, the sound of a sandal scraping bark, and then, "Climbing."

Toushiro raised a brow.

"Why?"

Rukia looked back down at him from her perch above, small hands holding tightly in an awkward angle as she grinned. "The view's always nicer from above."

Rolling his eyes, the captain sighed before letting his head fall back onto the trunk. Above him there was silence and he wondered if Rukia was doing the same until her voice broke through.

"There's someone on the other side of the lake." Glancing up, Toushiro waited for her to elaborate, watching as she squinted and leaned forward slightly.

"Be careful or you're going to fall."

She ignored him.

"Two people. . . sitting by the edge." She was leaning dangerously forward from the tangle of branches, too caught up by her curiosity to pay attention to her own balance. It wasn't like she hadn't climbed a tree before and the feeling of gravity pulling her down didn't scare her in the slightest so she continued her investigation.

"Rukia, you should really be careful or you're going to-"

A gasp, and before Toushiro could think he was scrambling up and diving to catch Rukia. The petite shinigami winced as she grabbed at a branch she passed on her way down, the pull of gravity jerking her arm violently. The eyes that had been scrunched closed during the fall now tentatively opened to squint below her, body swinging from the last of the momentum.

"Can you land from there?"

Instead of answering, Rukia released her grip on the branch and let herself fall the few feet, landing on her haunches like a cat before losing her balance on the willow roots. One of her feet wedged in between the snarled limbs and with a light muttered swear she got up carefully, pulling her foot out and rubbing at the now sore spot that gave the promise of a new bruise for tomorrow.

"I warned you."

There was no reply Rukia could muster.

"So what did you see up there?"

Standing up straight once more, the memory of what she had whitnessed suddenly hit the young woman and she remembered with startling clarity why she had fallen in the first place.

The reaction was instant—her face turned bright red.

"I think we should leave."

Toushiro raised a brow, eyes following her as she picked her way through the roots and hopped back onto regular ground before beginning the trek back the way they had come with a slight limp. He contemplated going up himself for a moment but found it easier just to follow the Rukia instead and coax the answer out of her—so he did.

"Two people? Were they shinigami?"

Rukia tried not to think about the distinctive features she had seen—the glasses on one, the tattoos on the other. . . the way they leaned into each other. . .

"Y-yeah." She stammered, trying hard to erase what she had seen from her mind.

"What were they doing?" Visibly flinching, the petite shinigami stumbled awkwardly for a second, well aware of the arm that shot out to help her get stable again.

"They were. . . uh. . . enjoying some time alone."

The eyebrow that raised in question did little to coax an explanation out of her.

"I think it best to just leave it at that." Her eyes were once again avoiding his own.

What exactly had they walked in on? It took her a moment, but the implication that they had trailed into a place meant to be romantic suddenly drowned her with what-ifs and the possibility that something _could've happened_!

_I really do not believe things would've gotten to such an extreme, Rukia-sama, calm down. _

"You alright?" She audibly swallowed, face still dusted pink as she glanced up at the captain and nodded.

"Y-yeah. Just . . ." Blinking then, her gaze rose to the sky as she lifted a hand out.

"Did you feel that?"

Cerulean orbs went from her to the sky, a familiar little cold tap on his face making him wince involuntarily at the contact.

"It's starting to rain. We better hurry back."

The walk was a quick one back to the tenth division, Rukia barely stepping foot inside the door before a loud crack of thunder announced the downpour for the whole of Soul Society. Toushiro sighed as he tried the lightswitch and frowned.

Great.

The twelfth division was the most technologically advanced place in _three worlds_ and yet they couldn't make the power stay on during a storm.

Lucky he kept a stash of candles ready.

Going to the small closet and coming back out with a lit candle, he automatically headed straight for his desk, practically collapsing into the chair and trying to switch gears back into work-mode.

"Rukia, did you . . ." The words died in his throat as he noted Rukia's still form leaning on the doorframe of the open shoji doors. The warm rays of the flickering candle barely reached her form, wax dripping onto the small tray at his side.

Her small figure was perfectly motionless. With the streaking of brightness across the skies in jagged lines of lightning, her pale face illuminated ethereally and she looked suddenly to him like a woman waiting for a lover patiently, adoringly.

If she breathed he didn't know—probably didn't realize that more than the storm that suddenly raged outside his doors, the small woman worshiping the rain with her eyes took his breath away more. The violet of her gaze twinkled with each passing flash in the darkened room, strands of inky black tresses swaying in the breeze of the rain as her lips curved slightly into a contented smile.

She was. . . untouchable.

His gaze must have been too obvious because she turned then, snapped out of her reverie and blinking widely at him from her perch.

"Did you call me, sir?"

There it was—that feeling again. That sudden need to remember how to breathe and how to get his pulse back to normal, to speak in coherent sentences that sounded intelligent and would keep those eyes on him.

To get her close enough to kiss again.

"N-no." The white haired youth stuttered suddenly, looking down at his desk as he waved a dismissive hand at her. "It's nothing."

He could feel her eyes, trying to ignore them as he shuffled things nervously around. He had so many things to do and here he was, having inappropriate thoughts and slacking off, and dear gods above, how long had he been gone? How much time would he lose from his night because of his stupid little stroll?

"Do you need help?" He froze mid-shuffle as his gaze landed on hers, unmoving even when they heard the splashing of a fellow shinigami running for cover with two companions.

"No, you're fine." The captain finally forced himself to say. "Just . . . sit there and relax until the storm dies down. I'm sure Ukitake wouldn't appreciate me sending you back in this weather."

"It's ok, I don't mind it at all. If I'm disturbing you-"

"Just sit down for a while, Rukia, you're not any hindrance, I promise you."

"Okay."

So she did.

For the second time that day Rukia was stopped by the captain of the tenth division. And try as she might, she couldn't find it in her heart to question everything that had happened. Somehow, letting it roll off of her skin like the droplets of rain, soothing and cold as they carried on the breeze seemed like a much better decision to her.

Maybe they were friends . . . maybe they weren't.

The only thing she knew was that for the moment, that didn't matter.

"Thank you. . . Hitsugaya-san." Her back was turned to him so she didn't note how he hesitated in reaction behind her, aquamarine orbs landing on her back and staying there for the longest time in the silence.

_Thank you for helping me. _

_Thank you for being patient with me._

_Thank you for letting me sit here and enjoy the rain with you._

"You're welcome." Was the reply from behind her.

She smiled.


	13. When My Heart Is Split Like Rio IV

**A/N: **Ye **GADS **I hate exams!**  
**

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)

* * *

_

**When My Heart Is Split Like Rio IV**

* * *

"Hitsugaya-san."

It left a strange, tingly feeling on her lips.

"Hitsugaya-san."

Whispering it to the trees, to the breeze, to the koi, it felt . . . nice.

She shouldn't be saying his name like this. Maybe she was delusional. Maybe she was just so mentally traumatized from her last experience that now certain words—_names_—carried a flavor with them. The flavor of moments spent together, of facing death, and even of the inkling of trust that made their awkward, slowly budding friendship something _possible_.

The name of a prodigy.

Having said it so many times in the human world, it should've been normal for her. And certainly one would think she wouldn't take it so to heart after having immediately gone onto a first name basis with the substitute shinigami of Karakura Town.

Then again, this was a captain who never really spoke to anyone apart from those he was forced to. No one really knew much about him except the tiny inner circle he kept around him—namely one Hinamori Momo and Matsumoto Rangiku, both of whom probably had taken many years to build the strong bonds they had with him.

And even then at times it seemed like he kept them at arm's length.

Rukia didn't think Toushiro Hitsugaya understood the surprise, the _honor_ she had felt at being allowed if only one step closer to such an admirable being.

"_Hitsugaya-san. It sounds . . . nice." _

Rukia's features reflected the smile she knew was on her zanpaktou's face as she sat on the bridge with her knees drawn to her chest.

"Yeah," She whispered, blushing slightly as she placed her chin on her knees, "I think so too."

It was all silence in the garden with the exception of a few birds chirping occasionally or the shifting of water from the koi's movements. If she dared to close her eyes she could feel the reiatsu of her brother, muted as it was, not too far away inside the mansion most likely preparing for the day.

The maids continued scurrying, gossiping, filling the corridors with life that one would swear could not be there without them. And if she truly strained her ears, her concentration, her very _soul_, even the shifting of Sode no Shirayuki could be heard over the din of the maids. The way the silk of the kimono shifted, slipping like a whisper over the snowy spirit as she too shifted from her perch on the edge of an iced over, broken bench that had maybe one day long ago seen better times.

Her favorite place.

"_I miss Zangetsu-san."_

A smile that Rukia hadn't even been aware of on her pale features faltered as she allowed her toes to curl over the edge of the bridge's polished wood.

As much as she didn't want to acknowledge it, there was a little hollow in her heart where she had grown used to feeling Ichigo and his spirit reside. It was tiny and maybe a little ignored, but it was there all the same and it reminded her of the price they all had to pay for the war.

Life continued even after the universe shifted—and it would continue regardless of whether she was there to fight by his side or not, to see him make a name for himself, to meet his first girlfriend, or watch his sisters grow into young women.

"Yeah, I miss him too."

Shinigami belonged in the spirit world. _She_ belonged in the spirit world.

It was just meant this way. And Rukia feared the day Yamamoto-genryusai finally decided to discourage contact with those in the human world because she knew well enough that though many things would be different, some were better meant to stay a certain way.

"_Well, we know the human world best of all. Maybe that will be an advantage for us in future missions?" _

Even if it meant sacrifices on both sides.

Nonetheless, Rukia put on a brave face and offered her zanpaktou a weak smile.

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

"Who are you talking to?"

Violet eyes rose from the water to the young man now standing behind her on the small bridge and a welcoming grin made it onto her face in such a fast switch that the petite shinigami was sure she would've made her brother proud.

"Sode no Shirayuki."

Scooting over without a second thought, the black haired noblewoman patted the spot where she had just been.

For a moment the redhead hesitated, raising a brow. "I really don't think I fit there."

Giving him a dry look, Rukia replied, "You lived in a tiny cave for hundreds of years. I'm sure cramping up your legs a little to sit beside me won't kill you."

Unable to find a countering statement, Ashido gave in with an accepting sigh and turned to sit with crossed legs beside her. For a moment there was nothing again but the birds in the trees above them, the feeling of the sun's rays on their backs, and any sadness Rukia had felt melted unwillingly into a contentedness she hadn't felt in a really long time.

A sense of normalcy that didn't include orange hair and school uniforms.

"There are so many things that have changed . . . but there's just as many that are exactly the same."

There was a subtle sadness cloaking Ashido, an uncertainty draped around his shoulders that seemed to push down on his strong, broad back, his gaze falling calmly to the koi in the pond below them and following the swirling patterns of orange and white as they waded through their tiny home.

If the statement hadn't been so somber she would've laughed at the tall man sitting on the tiny bridge beside her. Instead words were mulled over for a moment, both motionless as she tried to think of something to say to a feeling that she too, was trying to cope with.

"It's bound to happen." Was her delayed reply, eyes distant as images of orange hair and a permanent scowl pervaded through her mind. "Time stands still for no one."

Even now, three months later the wounds were still bared open and bleeding among some of their comrades, and it could be felt in the collective exhaustion as they all toiled forward inch by cruel inch to regain some sense of control over what they once thought to be normal lives.

Many of them were still suffering the aftereffects.

"But think about it," She said, shrugging as she licked her lips and tilted her head slightly towards him, "if things didn't happen the way they did, you wouldn't be the Ashido I know; the same shinigami sitting beside me right now. Maybe you wouldn't even be here. For all we know, you'd be a captain or a ranked officer who wouldn't have ever given me the time of day."

Brow furrowed and face completely serious, Ashido turned towards her. "I would've given you the time of day."

Giving a light chuckle, Rukia shook her head before dipping her nose into the little nook between her knees, eyes visible as they followed a falling leaf from one of her brother's many sakura trees.

"No, you wouldn't. You would've made yourself a great man, and you'd be out there working so hard that you wouldn't have time to know everyone. Well—you're great enough as it is already, so I'm sure that pretty soon I'll just be a passing face for you."

The way she said it with such certainty bothered Ashido to the point that he could no longer just sit beside her and not say anything. But instead of arguing with her, he figured he could safely say he knew her well enough in the short time span that they had spent together to be able to follow through with his actions and make her _see_ that he meant it.

With that in mind, he swiveled to face her, regarding her profile for a moment as they sat on the bridge.

"Rukia, look at me." Hesitantly the petite shinigami let her eyes rise first and then her whole head followed until she had craned her neck enough to face him fully from her seat. It was to her surprise then that she saw his hand and felt as his long calloused finger lifted her chin so that they were looking straight at each other and she would be unable to look away.

Caught off guard, Rukia could do little but let her eyes momentarily widen, the query on her tongue dying as violet locked with silver and she came to notice the profound sincerity within the depths of his eyes.

It left her breathless for a moment.

"You've seen what I've been through and you thought of me enough to come back even when you didn't have to."

"But I didn't-"

A stern look aimed at her completely cut off the remark as she clamped her mouth shut.

"If there is anything that I would ever want to tell you before I die, it's this: _I will never, __**ever**__ forget you_."

Why there was heat rising to her cheeks even as she sat there, enraptured by the intensity of his gaze was beyond her guess.

"Do you understand?"

She could do little but nod, finally released from his grasp and turning to face the pond. After a moment she finally sighed, chuckling a little.

"Thanks, Ashido."

She didn't have to look up to feel the smile on her companion's features.

* * *

It's become a routine, and that's the worst part of it all.

When he walks down the hall he actually nods at the receptionist and she smiles before simply turning back to her work, because he knows where he's going, and she knows where he's headed, and there's nothing to say between them except the 'good morning' and 'how are you' but he's above those pleasantries because they are false and hollow and his responses would be nothing but a grunt or a mutter here or there with emphasis at some points to make it seem as if he actually was making an effort to speak.

But he's way beyond that—three months does that to people.

Her room is not as small as the others.

The design is simple, as per rules of the fourth division, but it is clear that her friends have tried to breathe a little cheeriness into the otherwise quiet and dreary room where a solitary pale figure lies under many blankets, barely breathing. Strands of brown hair have been tenderly placed into a loose braid, and neglect is the word farthest from his mind upon laying eyes on her. There's flowers on the nightstand and the blinds have been left open to let the sun stream in and pool on her lap to warm hands that have not felt the heat of movement in many a day.

He stops just inside the door and just stares.

For a moment Toushiro Hitsugaya stands alone and the suffocating guilt, the anger, the burning hatred all resurface and he can't bring himself to step inside without feeling the tendrils of a dark embrace upon his heart.

But then he sighs, a tremble overtakes him, and it's all gone; all of it just fades away and only the broken girl in the bed remains.

So he goes to quietly sit beside her.

He opens his mouth only to close it again, a sigh escaping from slightly parting lips as he runs a hand through tufts of white nervously.

"Sorry." He mutters. "I've been kind of . . . busy."

There's a small rise and fall of her chest, but it's barely there. Even the light flame, the candle that was her reiatsu in his mind is dimmed, almost as if it were behind a gauze curtain with someone's breathe threatening to snuff it out.

"I was on a mission to the human world and I got kind of injured. It wasn't anything major though. You know Rukia, right? Abarai's friend—I had to go on the mission with her. It was weird, to be honest with you. Every time I saw her with Kurosaki, it was like she was a whole different person. She acted. . . I don't know how to say it. I just know it was different."

She would've probably chuckled. She would've shaken her head as if to say, '_oh, Shiro-chan.'_

As if that would explain why and how, and the mechanics behind the nonsensical world of women.

He stopped for a moment, almost expecting her to open her eyes and explain.

But Momo didn't.

"She's rough around the edges, but at the same time she's exactly like her brother. It's. . . weird. I wonder what you would think of her. Would you get along with her? You're both so different—I doubt it. Her personality is too strong, I think."

Maybe she would shrug and look down at the hands in her lap, as if they could explain why she felt so dejected at the idea that Toushiro was calling her weak indirectly. Maybe she would tilt her head and ask him why, unfazed, claiming that he had no right to say that until she herself had a chance to meet her (everyone deserved a chance after all).

Or maybe she'd tell him that Abarai—no, _Renji-kun_—was still sort of hurt over whatever had happened between him and Rukia in the past, and that she didn't know if it would be okay with him for her to be talking to the petite Kuchiki.

Maybe.

"I didn't bring you anything this time. I know Matsumoto's been dropping by with sweets and things. . . I'm sure you have more than enough to keep you on a sugar high for years. And it seemed like a bad idea to bring you flowers- you could never keep anything green alive for longer than three days, so killing flowers to decorate your room seemed pretty stupid too. "

Her cheeks would inflate as she would puff them out with a huff, eyebrows drawn down over eyes that would send an undignified glare in his direction.

'_I can SO keep a plant alive!'_

And then he couldn't keep the slight lifting of his heart to better days as he asked the room, asked her with the ghost of a smirk, "name one then, Momo. Name one plant you've kept alive longer than a week."

But only the emptiness of the room responded and so the ghost of a grin disappeared, his shoulders becoming tense again. She was still in the bed and he was sitting suddenly awkward (stupid, _**stupid**_! People in comas don't talk to you!)and the realization that the world was still turning outside the door pulled the young captain from any further spell the room, the girl in the bed, held over him.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, bed-wetter Momo." And before he could twist back to see if she would answer, Toushiro turned and left with a wave over one shoulder.

* * *

It was to everyone's unspoken bewilderment how Ashido became Byakuya's unwavering shadow. Through the days that he had been there, no one had seen him in anyone's company save that of the Kuchiki siblings—a bitter disappointment for the women of the Shinigami Women's Association, most of whom were (after mourning their loss of one more bachelor) already seeing the potential matchmaking to be done between the redhead and the petite shinigami who conveniently had been too busy to show up to the last of their meetings.

It wasn't the first time Byakuya had come to the meetings—in fact, lately he had become a strangely common occurrence with Rukia's constantly changing schedule at the thirteenth. If the older of the siblings didn't know any better, he would swear Ukitake was up to something under the table—except for the fact that the older man had spent half of the time in bed and thus could not be the culprit for his sister's sudden necessity.

But that didn't stop Byakuya from keeping a sharper eye on his sister's division as of late.

"So how did you survive out there by yourself?" (Isane.)

"How did the Hollows not detect you?" (Nanao.)

"What type of Hollows were encountered?" (Nemu.)

"Could you show us your abs?"

Everyone turned to look at Matsumoto, who blinked before looking around.

"What?" She said, raising her hands as if in defense and waggling her brows suggestively, "You KNOW you want to see them."

"M-Matsumoto-fukutaichou! We were supposed to welcome him, not-"

"Oh, come on Nanao-chaaaan, just one little flash, I'm sure he won't-"

"I'm sorry you have to see this." Isane said from beside Byakuya, blushing brightly as she looked apologetically between both men and trying to tune out the argument between the now furious lieutenant of eighth and a shameless Rangiku.

Ashido stood at the head of the table, simply raising a brow as his gaze fell back to the two (still) arguing women.

"I forgot how . . . _lively_ they could be."

Isane followed Byakuya's movements as he tried to stifle what he tried to pass off as a cough behind a fist.

"I believe lively is a nice way to put it when it comes to those two." Was her muttered reply.

Ashido turned to her and Isane could barely keep from blushing furiously at the direct flash of his gray eyes.

"I was just saying in general."

Well _that_ certainly killed the moment.

". . . oh."

Needless to say, the meeting ended up going nowhere except the barging in of Yachiru with a bag of candy demanding to know what was going on and effectively settling the argument between Matsumoto and Ise in a stalemate. After that they realized the time and a flustered Nanao dismissed the meeting before sending one last scathing glare at Matsumoto, turning to Ashido with a curt bow and saying a swift apology "in the name of our club" for him having to "experience such unladylike behavior."

And then promptly shoving him out the door.

Well. . . . Rukia hadn't missed much, which was good.

The rest of the day passed without much incident, Renji unnerved by the silent man standing beside Byakuya's desk as he periodically came in to give and receive different workloads throughout the day. It wasn't until later in the afternoon, to his great surprise, that he finally saw the captain by himself in the small quarters.

There were little white squares scattered on the table in front of the stoic man who only seemed to want to bore a hole into the desk. Renji raised a brow, hesitated, but knew it was too late to leave when Byakuya looked up towards him in acknowledgement.

"Yes?"

Shaking off the strange feeling creeping up on him, Renji took three long strides to his captain's simple desk, lifting his arm at the same moment to bring the papers within it to the nobleman's attention.

Byakuya didn't like wasting time.

"The latest budget reports have been turned in. I just received the updated version."

The redhead's hand stood outstretched with the handful of paperwork for a moment and he couldn't help it when his eyes fell to the desktop. The little squares from before became distinguishable as pictures scattered across the surface—all of them with only a headshot of one person each and a name scrawled under it in hasty letters. It was easy for him to pick up on the fact that from the script style alone, the man before him had not been the one labeling them.

It wasn't until he felt the sharp tug on the stack (which he had totally forgotten was still in his grasp) did Renji finally look up, startled, into Byakuya's unyielding gaze. Knowing he had been caught, the lieutenant could think of nothing to say as he cleared his throat and relinquished his hold on the paperwork.

The silence then could be cut with a katana, but the muted reiatsu coming from the captain was ever composed.

"So, uh, where's Ashido?"

"Out on a task."

Shifting weight form foot to foot unconsciously, Renji scratched nervously at the back of his head.

"Oh."

Even then with strange photographs before him, Byakuya refused to give any information on what Renji was now aware of. With gray eyes alone he dared his vice captain to try satisfy the curiosity that made him swallow, made him want to just out and ask even though they both knew the Kuchiki man would give nothing but a demand for his departure.

"Anything else, Abarai?"

A demand he would receive whether he asked or not.

Grimacing, the redhead offered nothing else as his shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment.

"No, nothing else sir."

Bowing, Abarai Renji avoided his captain's gaze as he silently left the room.

* * *

To say he was on a rampage was an understatement.

It didn't take anyone very long to pick up on their captain's current temperament in the tenth division. In fact, several were drawing straws on who's turn it was to take the heat for a report written inaccurately that needed immediate attention (and correction, consequently) from the young man at present yelling at a new recruit for their inability to do some menial task without his help.

Funny really, how their lieutenant (who usually bore the brunt of the attack with all the apparent distress of a mountain towards a mouse) had decided that today was the one day she really didn't feel like coming in and had thus requested the day off.

Leaving the rest of her squad to deal with a very irate captain.

So when he finally chose to go out on a minor errand, they all collectively sighed in palpable relief.

He needed to find Ukitake to ask him some questions on a report written by one of his underlings. With that goal in mind, Toushiro found himself walking (stalking) through Sereitei to the thirteenth division barracks, sliding the main doors open and looking around as the secretary at the main desk looked up at him with a welcoming smile.

"Hi, how are you today sir? Is there anything I can do for you today?"

There was nothing distinctive on her. No jewelry, no makeup, just her hair up in a bun and the standard uniform. She was just another nameless soul in the system, and the white haired captain would be hard pressed if asked to describe her later to someone else.

His eyes roved over the empty halls, noting how eerily quiet it was in the building other than what he assumed was the rhythmic tapping of a foot against the base of a desk chair by the jumpy woman in front of him.

If that had been one of his people, he would've already yelled at her for the annoying behavior. As it was, all he could do was swallow down the sharp remark at the tip of his tongue and try to be as civil as possible.

"Is Ukitake here today?"

"He is, but he's out in another division taking care of some matters. Would you like to wait for him?"

"No, it's fine. Are his third seats here?"

Well, surely they could help him out a bit-once they got past their shouting match over who would help him.

"Yes sir, they're in the back training grounds. Should I get them for you?"

"No," Was the reply with a quick running of his hand through white hair, "I'll go see them myself."

He had walked through the area so many times (was in fact, one of the only other divisions he could navigate through confidently) seeing as Ukitake had always invited the younger man on walks. His steps were firm as he went down the well worn path, eyes roaming the landscape until he spotted a circle of thin foliage, trees scarce when compared to the large pit they encircled. It was then that he spotted the two third seats of the thirteenth division sitting near the edge of the pit, strangely relaxed and quite silent.

Unable to resist, he didn't bother to mask the noise he made as he walked into view, neither of the two making any indication they had seen him enter. Looking down at the pit, he noted a familiar petite woman ducking under a swing before parrying one of her two attackers.

"What are you doing?"

Kiyone didn't miss a beat.

"Watching Rukia-san."

She popped a chip in her mouth, the crunch loud as she chewed. Beside her Sentarou didn't even look up, reaching blindly for the chip bag in his companion's lap and taking one before popping it in his mouth and nodding.

Those chips were from the human world—contraband. Did the captain of the tenth division particularly care? No, not really. He had bigger fish to fry.

Hitsugaya looked down.

"Does she know you're here?"

The pit was enclosed in a reiatsu seal that would protect the surrounding area should any kidou or bankai go astray. It wasn't surprising to anyone when the victims of the pit would come out and have the living daylights scared out of them at finding they weren't alone.

In fact, it was so common it wasn't even considered a particularly bright practical joke anymore. At least not after Madarame once nearly decapitated a fellow shinigami who thought it would be funny to hide in the bushes.

Needless to say, there were many reports to fill after that.

"Nope."

The cool teal gaze of the tenth division captain followed as Rukia sidestepped a swipe and parried with a hasty kidou spell.

"How long she been down there?"

"Half an hour." Sentarou.

"She's training the new recruits." Air quotes from Kiyone around 'new recruits'.

A raised brow from Toushiro.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Well sir," She threw a glare at Sentarou, who tried to grab the bag of chips from her hands and failed, "we figured giving Rukia some play time wouldn't hurt."

His eyes narrowed.

They didn't call him a prodigy for nothing.

There was something the two third seats weren't telling him and it was obvious in the way the darker haired of the two squirmed under his gaze, averting brown eyes to the pit below. Toushiro had to hand it to Kiyone though—if it wasn't for Sentarou's lack of ability at lying, he might've totally bought it.

But Sentarou had failed and so the white haired youth didn't.

"Alright, out with it. I want to know all of it." Crossing his arms, Hitsugaya planted his feet shoulder width apart and tried to make the most of his looming (short) presence beside the two seated officers.

He ignored the quick elbow jabbed into Sentarou's ribs by the tiny blonde woman.

Kiyone rose with a sigh.

"Would it be too much to ask of you, sir, that this be kept from our captain, as well as captain Kuchiki?"

Raising a brow, Toushiro hesitated for a moment, wondering what types of things could possibly be so bad as to be withheld from two captains (besides contraband chips). And besides, what could possibly involve Rukia that could be told to him? Why him? Did they consider him so far from the issue that it would matter little whether her knew or not?

Somehow that felt like an insult.

"As long as it doesn't breach any rules or regulations, doesn't interfere with anyone's duties, then you won't have any problems with me." Both third seats seemed to visibly deflate from the anticipation.

Kiyone's gaze drifted back down to the pit.

"We want Rukia to take the exam for vice captain."

The answer was immediate.

"She's nowhere near ready to be vice captain."

"She might not be yet," Kiyone countered, lavender gaze following her fellow shinigami's moves below, "but she has potential. We really would like to see her rise to a position worthy of her skills. Not to mention we're still hurting from losing so many people to the war that someone with her skill set would be great to have active right now."

"Trouble is, our captain's are against it." Sentarou piped in, picking at his teeth.

"Why don't either of you try for vice?"

The both of them had been third seats for as long as Toushiro could remember. Surely one of them could make it, no? Hell, maybe they would _both_ make it and then be carted off to separate divisions.

"That's the problem. We already technically are. And let's face it-Rukia-san has a lot more experience when it comes to actual field missions-that's something we can't ignore. I-_we_-don't feel bad in saying this at all. If it's for the good of the division, then it's for everyone's good, no?"

Well. . . what the hell was he supposed to answer to that?

"And to be honest sir, it gets rather tiring doing two seats at once."

"Even if there are two of us—and I do more of the work." Was the remark with a resolute nod from behind Kiyone.

Before the captain of the tenth division knew it, the remark turned from just that to a full out brawl. Trying to ignore the rise of a coming headache, he tried to catch their attention again with what little patience he could muster.

"So you're training her without her knowing."

From the ground, Kiyone looked up and nodded, her leg wrapped around Sentarou's neck in a wrestling move that would put a professional to shame. The young man's face was quickly changing colors.

"If she knew, she would feel guilty about not telling Ukitake-taichou or Kuchiki-taichou because she promised them both she wouldn't ever try for a seated exam—well, her brother at least. But he has influence over Ukitake-taichou so basically we can't rely on him either."

Hisana.

An image of the woman on the roof rocking Rukia's limp body in her arms sent a shiver down his spine.

Looking back down, he heard more than saw when Kiyone finally released her partner, the latter giving a dramatic wheeze as he coughed.

Remaining nonplussed, the captain watched as the black haired young woman was slammed into one of the cliff walls by a nasty palm to the chest. But instead of crumpling to the ground like he had seen many trainees do, the captain was pleasantly surprised to note the fierceness that glittered from her eyes and gave her enough propulsion to condemn her opponent with a well placed kick to the lower abdomen. This was immediately followed by a thrust from her sword that left her as the winner of that single-opponent round.

A sigh from behind him.

"I told them not to use hand-to-hand. She already has plenty of experience with that."

"But switching between sword and fist is also one of her weak points, stupid."

"Don't call me stupid, stupid! You know Rukia-san needs more practice with her sword! _Her sword_!"

Watching her continue, Hitsugaya's frown grew.

"That isn't enough of a challenge for her. Even if you place both of them on her heels she can take them. You have to keep in mind that she's been around shinigami of high caliber for a while now, and she's survived a war by herself." It was then to their astonishment that the captain picked up one of the practice blades from the ground beside them, testing the weight in one hand. "You'll have to do better than that."

The eyes that followed him were as wide as saucers. Even as he broke through the seal and slowly walked up to the trio in the pit, he could feel the questions looming in the gaze held on his back.

"Hitsugaya-taichou!" The reaction of the three within was immediate. All three bowed, but only Rukia was smiling. The other two snuck glances from under a hooded gaze, mumbling their welcome at him and certainly in awe of the reputation that preceded him.

"You're slacking, Kuchiki. I don't see you putting up too much of a fight."

Taken aback by the statement, Rukia could do little but blink for a moment before bowing and offering an apology. "It is my duty to train them sir, nothing else."

No matter what way she said it, Hitsugaya knew he had inadvertently set her up to insult them, and for a moment he felt a twinge of guilt for it. Cerulean eyes caught the dark looks that landed on her back and he couldn't help the annoyance that crept into his gaze when it landed on them openly.

"Is there something you want to say?" He asked the taller of the two young men. Caught off guard the shinigami stuttered, shaking his head slightly before ducking his face to hide the furious burn.

The second though, was a little more prepared.

"Well sir, we just think it's unfair-"

"Your blade, Rukia." Whether she noted the slip or not went unnoticed on her features as she looked skeptically at the captain with narrowed violet eyes. Nonetheless, she wordlessly gave him the dulled blade.

"No kidou, no weapon. Protect yourself as you see fit under these restrictions against the both of them."

Her gaze slipped then from him to the two shinigami beside her as she nodded.

"_Wakatta_."

For a moment it seemed her two sparring partners were too frozen in shock to move, not giving their acknowledgement of understanding as easily as Rukia had. But then Toushiro blinked and they were off, the mouthy one from before taking the first initiative.

The first move was a direct jab towards her chest which Rukia dodged with ease, swiveling on her heel to face him with her body sideways. With his center of balance compromised, she pulled hard on his outstretched arms and sent him flying behind her. In the same movement she fluidly sidestepped out of the way of a wide backhanded swing meant to decapitate, ducking before mercilessly slamming an open palm into the gut of her second opponent's wide front.

By now the first man had recovered his steps and turned around, using sword techniques Toushiro hadn't seen since leaving the academy in a clumsy array of desperation to reach his small target.

Unfortunately for him, she was well aware of this and was using it completely to her advantage.

At first Toushiro thought she really could barely keep out of her opponent's sword reach (a fact that would make him lose immense respect for her), but on closer inspection it didn't' escape him how there was the slightest of smirks on pale, barely flushed features.

The petite shinigami was dancing at the edge of her oppnent's assault to _mock_ him.

_Can you catch me?_

Slowly as he watched her spar from up close he caught a whiff of lavender in the resulting breeze from a dodged kidou spell, noted the way her thin fingers moved fluidly as if letting the energy dance through them. From here he could see the way her dainty lips moved with each exhaled breath, could follow the beginnings of a drop of sweat as it traced down the column of a long, slender neck to the line of-

A loud string of expletives was what alerted him back to the scene before him.

One down.

It didn't take too long for the second to follow, and Toushiro could say he was mildly impressed she didn't take any annoyance out on her retaliation like he thought she would.

Her breathing had barely quickened.

"Come here." The captain commanded, already making a list of pointers for her in his mind.

And she would've.

Neither of them expected it when one of the two on the ground rose and sent his katana soaring towards the back of the young woman. The anger fueled the movement in slow motion, driving it forward towards its unsuspecting target without hesitation as cerulean orbs followed it through the muddle of time.

Toushiro didn't think.

In that moment he could've counted every strand of hair that passed before violet eyes, could almost feel the breath that passed through her lips-maybe could even hear her heartbeat underneath the palpitation of his own when shunpo carried him past her.

And then time sped up again.

"**Do it**." He snarled, the blade caught between his fingers and nicking his skin. Dull it may be, but the force behind it would be more than enough to drive way past breaking skin.

If he hadn't stopped it. . .

"I **dare** you."

Fury sent adrenaline through his veins, the small pain of the cuts bleeding onto the training weapon not registering any pain in his mind.

"Hitsugaya-taichou," Came Rukia's puzzled voice from behind him, "what are you-"

"What the hell were you planning, huh? Did you seriously think you could get away with such a cheap shot at a fellow shinigami?"

He didn't tolerate people to begin with. But this? This was insane. To know that one could not even trust those that were supposed to watch their back was ridiculous, and to know such pompous asses were running their halls was something Toushiro Hitsugaya would **not** tolerate.

Not after Aizen.

Not after Gin.

Not after nearly losing his life to save the world this scum lived in.

The blade was jerked back as the lower ranked shinigami's dark gaze lowered to the captain. Hiding his mild surprise at the action, Toushiro stood firmly rooted between him and Rukia, unwavering even as the tall man stepped towards him, voice barely loud enough for Hitsugaya to hear.

"That thing behind you isn't a shinigami, sir—_it's a __**street rat**_."

A whirlwind of dust and suddenly Rukia's sparring companion was slumping down from the impact of having been slammed into the pit wall yards away where there were spidering cracks from the collision. Violet eyes wide, the petite shinigami couldn't make out what the captain was saying but she didn't hesitate. When he raised the dull blade (which she was sure he could kill with even in this state) and she felt the familiar wave of complete frost in the air, Rukia used the shock that sent the hairs on her skin rising to propel herself forward and tackle the captain from behind, the yells of her fellow thirteenth division members informing her she was no longer alone.

"Get them out of here, NOW!"

Sentarou and kiyone didn't hesitate as they roughly grabbed the other two shinigami and carted them away, the blonde woman casting a worried glance over one shoulder at Rukia before urging her companion forward. Rukia watched them well until she couldn't make out their forms above the opposing lip of the pit and then finally lowered violet orbs to the familiar symbol of the tenth division splayed underneath her curling fingers.

The captain's breathing was ragged beneath her.

Swallowing hard, Rukia tried to keep her voice and gaze steady on the back of his head. She wasn't afraid of him; in fact, that was honestly the last thing on her mind. She knew this man. She _knew_ Toushiro Hitsugaya.

But maybe that was the problem.

Maybe it was their shared element, maybe it was the fact that somehow she could just read him, but Rukia could feel the adrenaline coursing through her heart, pumping a fury in her veins she couldn't quite grasp in that moment.

He was furious, and she could feel it taking over her.

The threat of his temper loomed over them in the form of a thick blanket of cold that wrapped around her heart and began to pull at her own heartstrings. She couldn't understand how, but his feelings were forcing themselves on her through the furious tremble of his body underneath her fingertips, in the power that _hummed_ in the air.

It was like trying to blot out the sun with a single finger and trying to shut out its warmth.

Biting her lip to try and keep her mind steady, the petite shinigami didn't shiver, didn't give an inch to his suffocating aura because somehow she knew that doing so could lead to consequences he might later regret and might put her in the fourth division for good.

The taste of coppery blood on her lip let her know she had broken skin. She swallowed some of it when she tried to secure her emotions over the scream of his.

"If I move, can I trust you to behave, Hitsugaya-san?" The lilt of her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was firm.

He didn't reply. Too taken aback by her use of his name, Toushiro could do little but swallow audibly and nod.

The cold receded a little, and the blanket of cold that had surrounded them suddenly seemed less thick—just. . . _hazy_. Almost as if it weren't too sure where to go.

The little weight that had been on his back was suddenly gone and he found himself hesitating for a second before rising slowly to his feet.

"I won't ask what's going through your head . . .sir." It was added as an afterthought, teal gaze following her in surprise as she looked away. "I have no right to know."

"You have every right to know."

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could filter them through his anger-muddled head and suddenly they were staring at each other point blank, frozen for a moment in bewilderment at their predicament.

Rukia raised a hand unconsciously to rub some warmth back into the arm wrapped around her torso.

"Sorry." Toushiro muttered gruffly, looking away as he willed his reiatsu to come back under his control.

"It was my fault."

He turned to her, confusion evident in his teal gaze.

"I got a little carried away with them, you came in to stop me."

"What the hell are you-"

"I don't know what you were doing, or how you got here, but thank you for coming to stop me sir, I'm sure I would've done a _lot_ more damage if you hadn't-"

The look on her eyes was too sincere for Toushiro to take.

"Kuchiki!" His hand was firmed as he grabbed her shoulder and lightly shook her. "What the _hell_ are you talking about? Did you not just-"

"Rukia, sir."

Violet eyes caught the annoyed twitch at the corner of his eye, but she didn't budge an inch on the matter. Instead she met his confused/flustered/annoyed glare with a calm stare of her own.

Too much—Byakuya was rubbing off on her _too much_.

She was about to speak again but they were interrupted by the voices above. Before he could think it over twice, his hand slipped down to wrap around her arm just shy of her elbow and he tugged her forward hard.

"Come on!" He hissed.

"Wait! Captain where are we-?"

The rest of her sentence was cut into a choked cry as she felt his hand tighten and suddenly they were moving. Rukia was almost sure her arm was going to be pulled out of its socket as he shunpoed with her in tow, barely able to keep up with him from the confusion that clumsied her steps and nearly sent her into a face-plant several times.

It wasn't until they were quite a bit away that Rukia could finally look up at the captain where she had hunched over to lean on her knees, trying to regain her breath.

"You do-" -A ragged breath-"realize, Hitsugaya-s-san-" A swallow that reminded her of the dryness in her mouth-"-that we left a nice biiiig trail of-reiatsu."

The lie slipped from his mouth faster than he thought it would and twice as smoothly.

"You were training, I came to ask for your help on something, and so we left."

Rukia 's eyes followed him as he slid down the wall and made himself comfortable. She didn't think twice before following his lead and hunching down beside him with a furrowed brow, a look of seriousness crossing her features that the captain almost believed as she tucked her elbows in between her chest and squatted legs.

"You, sir, are a very bad influence."

The look on his face was priceless in that moment, Rukia realized, and so she couldn't hold her serious exterior anymore and just laughed.

It was a real laugh, a sound that somehow tugged at his heartstrings and made the cloud above his head waver just the tiniest of bits.

But he wasn't about to show her that.

Annoyed and now embarrassed, Toushiro looked away with a frown.

"Cheh. This coming from the worst influence in all of Sereitei."

"I do believe that spot is reserved for your lieutenant, sir."

He seemed to contemplate the idea, finding it very hard to argue and just shrugging.

"Alright, I stand corrected. Second worse."

"No," she chided, shifting then and sighing, "that's your spot."

"I'm a captain." Crossing his arms, he puffed out his chest and smirked down his nose at her from the mere two inches he had over her own small stature on the floor. "I can do no wrong."

"Well," With the driest look she could muster, Rukia waved him off and turned to peek out around the corner of the building where he had dragged her. "I do believe it was _your_ idea to run . . . sir."

Toushiro didn't miss her smirk.

She had the nerve, the _audacity_ to call him out after he had defended her honor?

Well . . . . not that she _knew_ that exactly.

"If I hadn't interrupted, you would be skewered right now, and I'm sure your seated officers wouldn't be too happy with the paperwork."

Rukia didn't miss a beat. "Or the hospital visits. Visiting one division member at the fourth is enough. Even though I must say that I am officially well known to all of the nurse staff there."

"By name?"

"Yes, by name."

"Very impressive." And Rukia tried not to grin at the nod of approval, or the way his brows raised as if he really had thought it so.

"I have my own room there too."

"And of course your brother had _nothing_ to do with this."

"I will have you know sir, that I got those injuries all on my own."

"You sound rather proud."

Rukia seemed to contemplate this for a moment, wrinkling her nose as she titled her head slightly, and that made it really hard for Toushiro not to just want to run his fingertips over her soft-looking features.

"Yeah," She finally replied after a moment with a nod as if giving her thoughts satisfactory closure, "I think I actually am."

"Well, don't let me stomp on your parade."

"Oh, don't worry Hitsugaya-san, I won't."

"That's good."

"Now if you don't mind, sir, I think I would like to stop huddling in this corner and actually get off of my legs because they're kind of falling asleep."

"You have no tolerance, Kuchiki."

"I apologize, sir."

"Well, let's get going then."

"It was nice, uh, running with you, Hitsugaya-san." Both of them got up, Rukia glancing at him as she took to dusting her uniform off nonchalantly. Nodding politely to him, she turned to leave.

"Where do you think you're going? If we're going to lie, we have to make it-" Rukia stopped mid-step and swiveled to look at him over one shoulder.

Toushiro froze-

_-Eyes innocently wide and blinking at him beneath long black lashes, back twisted in such a way that he could see the sensual curving of her back and the way her small hips jutted out just so-. _

-And swallowed. Hard.

"Hitsugaya-san?"

She hadn't noticed when he had once again grabbed her arm, but now she was well aware of how he released her as if burned.

"I-I . . . have to go."

And without further explanation, he let go of her and was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a very confused Rukia to walk back on her own.

* * *

He would have to admit to himself that Rukia had somehow lightened his mood in the short time he had spent with her. That in itself was an accomplishment worthy of his respect. But there was a problem now, and it came in the very form that of the woman that he was short of thanking for raising his spirits momentarily.

_Can you catch me?_

That same woman who had leaned into him in a taxi cab, who had fallen asleep against him in the dark. The one who had invited him to eat pancakes, who knew his favorite fruit, and even how he liked his tea.

_It was honest, a pure sense of joy that appeared on her features as he turned on his heel to face her. Before he could utter a word, could even begin to muster up the anger he had felt just moments ago, all thoughts were derailed by her petite hands grabbing for one of his own and then turning him so that they went down the hall together._

The one who could wield her emotions just as confidently as her sword.

His elbows were propped up on the desk and Toushiro wasn't above taking his hands to just run them through white hair, using them to lean his head forward in thought. All the clutter that had been on his desk, the piles of paperwork that were ever present were all still there but had been pushed haphazardly to the edges in a makeshift (panicky) fort that he wished would shield him from the figure he saw approaching the desk.

"Taichou! Look at what I-!" The busty blonde took one look at the captain, at his desk, and immediately her tone changed, hand coming down from when she had raised it to show him her treasure.

"You okay, Hitsugaya-taichou?"

The dark glare that came from his barely raised head was more than enough of an answer to her raised brow.

"Headache." He muttered.

A sigh, and then Matsumoto headed to her desk, setting down the little envelope in her hand on top and rummaging through her things with all the astute silence of an elephant stampeding the room.

If he really had gotten a headache, he would've killed her by now.

"Here." She said, placing the small bottle of pain killers in front of him. "Take one and you should be fine."

No response.

Eyeing him strangely, Matsumoto shook her head and turned on a heel to head to her desk.

"You're never in here willingly on a day off. What did you forget?"

"I didn't forget anything." Was the simple reply as she picked up what she had set on her desk before. "I came to give you this."

Lifting it in view, Toushiro raised a brow as his lieutenant set the small square parcel in front of him, a strange smirk growing on her features.

"Who knows," She said, unable to hide the wicked grin, "It might make you feel a little better."

And without another word, she left him alone in the dark office.

Needless to say, curiosity was never one of HItsugaya's downfalls. So to say he was _dying_ to know what was inside—well, that would be a lie.

And seeing as this was coming from the hands of a very impulsive source as Matsumoto, it was even harder to be curious. Anything she ever gave him involved something that ultimately would spell out bad news for him usually in some form of embarrassment.

Using a fingertip, he pushed the little envelope nearly to the front edge of his desk.

Sighing, he let his head fall with a loud thump to meet the flat top, groaning at how stupid he must've looked for having ditched Rukia earlier the way he did.

Toushiro really, _**really**_ didn't want to think about it.

So with one last grunt, he lifted his head and eyed the envelope again. If only momentarily, it would offer a reprieve from his thoughts long enough for him to move onto something productive. So slamming a hand down on it, he dragged it back to lie in front of him.

Lifting it up, he placed it to the light trying to see what was inside. It looked harmless enough, seeing as there weren't any weirdly bulging shapes of any sort, and whatever was inside looked to be simply a piece of thickly folded paper. So deeming it safe to handle, Hitsugaya tore at the flap and took to pulling out the contents.

Good thing he didn't have a drink in his hand.

What he originally thought to be a thickly folded paper was actually pictures—seven of them.

And all of them shared one item of interest in all of them.

"Rukia." He said aloud, as if doing so would verify what his eyes were seeing.

In six of them she was looking away, probably unaware of the camera on her. There was one where she was smiling uncomfortably as Inoue spoke (probably about potential dishes for the future), another with a raised shoulder as she tried to look where Ishida was fixing the blouse, one more where she seemed deep in thought—wait a minute, wasn't that one of those strange dishes behind her on the table? One of those the redheaded human had made as a snack on the night. . . not that it was hard to discern what night it was, seeing as the outfit Rukia had on was impossible to forget.

But it wasn't until he got to the second to last picture that it made him hesitate for a moment.

It was the both of them.

He didn't know how, but Rangiku had managed to capture them conversing.

They were both sitting on the couch, Rukia cradling the control of the television in her hands as she listened with wide eyes to whatever he had said. It was an awkwardly placed shot, so it was obvious that it was something Matsumoto had gotten while walking quickly past them—but there was definitely something that he couldn't deny:

If anyone were to look at them, it was like looking at a couple having an intimate conversation.

She was leaning slightly towards him, he had an arm hooked over the edge of the couch behind her, and their gazes were locked in a way that seemed to shut out everything else.

If he remembered correctly, that had been in the half hour before their departure for the club—before Ashido, before the poison, before she could call him Hitsugaya-san and not feel like she was breaching etiquette.

Before he kissed her.

Damn it all to hell, he had _kissed_ her.

And it wasn't necessarily the type of kiss he had, err, _imagined_.

It was quick, it was light, just _barely there_ in the span of a single beat. There wasn't anything inappropriate that had gone on, no groping (dear gods above, the heart attack that would lead to on both parties!), no touching, not even the murmur of anything remotely _romantic_.

Did that even count?

No, surely that couldn't count.

A frown.

Contrary to his lieutenant's belief, he wasn't in any way remotely gay (as her incessant jokes threw blatantly in his face), and saying that he had the guts to kiss a girl and that it didn't count (this was no medical reason either)—it definitely hit on his pride.

It probably wasn't what a girl would consider a good kiss either.

Might as well hand him his pride as a man on a platter when said girl didn't seem affected at all by it either. She had done exactly what he had asked of her—had totally disregarded it as a desperate action.

So why couldn't he?

Looking down at the picture again, his gaze followed every curve of her body down to the hands cradling the remote on her lap. Were her fingertips soft? What would it be like to feel them skimming his face?

When he looked up and saw his own hand coming up to his cheek in wonder, he let it instead curl into a fist that came down on the desktop slowly. Why was he feeling like this? This wasn't anything like what had happened when he came to realize that he had feelings for Momo. It was a lot more. . . intimate somehow.

It was foreign.

That thought carried on with him through the rest of the day well until he saw his lieutenant walk in brightly at twelve the next morning (or afternoon depending on who was asking) and followed his form around his desk and towards the door with a stack of paperwork in hand.

Sliding the doors open, he hesitated at the doorway before looking back at Matsumoto with a nonchalant raise of his brow.

"By the way you suck at taking pictures." He deadpanned.

Her glare followed him out the door as she huffed, insulted but unhesitating as she slipped said pictures out of the envelope that had been on her desk upon entering to reassess her own handiwork. Propping her chin on one hand, she spread them slowly with the other until they were all in view and her brow furrowed in confusion for a moment.

Taking the envelope, she made sure it was empty, shaking it to double check that nothing had gotten stuck inside. After this had been achieved with no result, Matsumoto made a little noise of curiosity, eyes roving over her desk to make sure there had been nothing she had missed—which also came to a firmly negative conclusion.

The busty blonde counted the pictures before her again.

And when realization dawned on her, the frown of bewilderment turned into the widest, most face-splitting grin anyone would ever see on the face of the tenth's lieutenant—or anyone for that matter.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed triumphantly, laughing in such a maniacal manner that made an intern shinigami turn away at the door without a second thought. "I _**KNEW**_ it!"

Looking down at the proof of success in the little experiment she had done, Matsumoto scooped up the glossy pieces and threw them in celebration as she fell back into her chair and swiveled in it happily.

Of course she'd have to pick them up before Hitsugaya came back to make sure he didn't know that she had seen the results.

But that wouldn't be a problem.

There was, after all, one less than what she had originally put on his desk.


	14. But I Assure You:: My Debts Are Real

**A/N**: -you get the picture.

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)_

* * *

**(But I Assure You) My Debts Are Real**

* * *

From the moment she woke up, in her heart she knew something was different about today. When violet orbs met the light of day and her head turned, breathe coming out in a shiver to the cool morning air and sun making the large doors to her room glow, Rukia Kuchiki knew something was different in a gravity shifting way.

Because there was a shadow on the other side of her door. Because it was tall and imposing in a way only one man knew how to do.

Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked up to see Setsuna already beside her, robe in hand. Her eyes revealed nothing as she nodded respectfully to her charge.

"He's waiting, Rukia-sama."

For a moment the young woman looked from the robe to the maid, gaze turning to once again see the shadow of the man on the other side of her door.

Nodding, she kicked away the sheets and took the robe from her companion, slipping it on. It was to her surprise then, that instead of being led to the doorway she was steered towards the bathroom attached to her room.

"It is not right for a lady to ever be seen anything other than composed." Was Setsuna's gentle chide in her ear.

A breathy little chuckle was all Rukia could muster at the random etiquette lesson. Even so early, the irony could not be lost on her.

The shower, though warm, did little to help the chill that settled in her heart. When she finally stepped out back into her bedroom, the black haired youth hesitated in front of Setsuna, looking down at the box in her hands and back up to meet unwavering eyes with a question clearly reflected in her gaze.

This wasn't her shinigami uniform.

"As per Lord Kuchiki's orders, you are to wear this today, Rukia-sama."

What could she say? No? Of course not. So she just nodded numbly, swallowing as the box was opened before her and the delicate tatoshi paper was carefully removed.

"I can't wear this." Before she could take the words back they slipped past her lips and she looked up at her maid with wide-eyed desperation. Pale fingers tightened around the hold they had on her robe, water dripping rivulets down her stunned features.

The article in the box was too beautiful and definitely not for someone as. . . _undeserving_. . .as her.

Even her fingertips refused to come in contact with the fabric carefully folded, afraid it would crumble under her touch.

It was exquisite silk that looked as if it were spun from the purest of blood red roses. A furisode, she realized as it was lifted reverently out of the box by her maid, with large, beautiful blossoms in whites to rival the moon's glow and the perfect tinge of blushing pink shading their large luminous petals. The branches that held the blooms were painstakingly crafted midnight black and olive green hues that accented the glow of their blossoms and if she were to dance within it, Rukia could almost feel the branches sway upon the sleeves and across her legs to a breeze ringing in her ears.

"I can't wear this." She repeated breathlessly as Setsuna smiled understandingly.

"But you will." Was the simple reply before Rukia was calmly guided towards the folding three way mirror in the corner of her room.

It wasn't an easy process. Even with Setsuna as experienced as she was, there was no denying the fact that Rukia had never done this before. Her hair and what little makeup she wore was done first so as not to hinder the process, feet clad in soft tabi. She looked at her reflection in the mirror as the gold obi was tied properly around her tiny waist and for a moment she wanted to get out of the outfit she was convinced was worth more than her life.

This girl in the mirror—who was she?

"Do you know where he's taking me?"

Brown eyes slipped up to cryptically glance at the young woman before Setsuna answered with a shake of her head. "I am but a maid, Rukia-sama. What the lord of the manor decides to do is not for me to question, but to obey."

Rukia's pink rouged lips pursed, but otherwise gave no further indicated comment on the matter.

When finally she had been fully dressed and there was no reason to stall further, Setsuna took her arm and helped her walk slowly towards the door so that she could get used to the zori on her feet.

Standing as tall as her small figure would allow, the petite shinigami lifted her chin and swallowed, glancing towards her companion and giving a small nod. At her confirmation, Setsuna bowed before taking the doors and sliding them slowly open.

Byakuya had his back to them but had turned at the sound of the wooden doors. Whatever reaction the younger of the Kuchiki siblings expected from her adoptive brother, what she saw instead certainly wasn't it.

Their eyes met, violet on gray, and Rukia couldn't look away. They were locked suddenly, frozen as she tried to make sense of the way his gaze reflected like an ocean, _profound_ with something she had sworn to never instigate in his heart after everything that had transpired on Sokyoku Hill.

Sadness.

_Sadness_ was there.

It was suffocating and binding, constricting her throat and leaving the feeling almost tangible to her fingers if she ran them over her brother's solemn features. Her heart was beginning to break little by little in every second that transpired between them.

"I-I . . ." He hated it when she stuttered. Rukia realized it as soon as the word tried to leave her mouth and so she clamped her jaw shut, looking up at Byakuya grimly instead. She noticed with some relief that it had pulled him out of whatever stupor he had fallen into, eyes cold and more withdrawn than usual—but could she blame him?

Whatever words she had meant to say (I'm sorry?) lifted from her mind like the pulling of a veil, leaving her wondering if that was really what she had meant to say.

"It suits you." Was all Byakuya said before she smiled weakly, confused, but taking the arm he offered and walking slowly away from the woman watching from the small room.

Rukia didn't dare question where they were going.

It didn't take long for it to become apparent that they were heading towards the dining room, neither sibling taking in the splendid view of the manor's lush gardens. Even with the sun warming their backs the darkness crept inside their minds for different reasons, deeming them immune to the beauty of the bright day.

Even so, neither was mentally capable of allowing themselves to lament such small matters.

Two maids bowed before opening the shoji doors towards the dining area, Rukia shying away from the very obvious stares aimed her way as they passed. Used to her usual morning routine, she made to walk towards her seat until her brother's gaze and a light tug on the arm hooked around his let her know she wasn't to sit there today. More than a little taken aback, Rukia could do little but comply with his silent request, uncomfortable with the totally different view than what she was used to once she was fully seated.

This was the first time she had ever sat _beside_ as opposed to across from him.

Violet eyes rose subtly to the taller form of her brother, studying in awe the minute creases in his clothes, catching the faint smell of his shampoo, and _feeling_ the warmth radiating from the muted reiatsu he exuded—and though it seemed ill fitting, she found his silent companionship reassuring.

Breakfast was set before them, Byakuya taking a careful sip of his tea. It didn't take him long to note his adopted sister's stare towards her plate with all the rapture of a vacant body.

"You should eat."

Snapping back to attention with a slight jump, his sister's gaze rose sheepishly as she spoke. "I'm not very hungry right now, but thank you Byakuya nii-sama."

Glancing at her, Byakuya took his fork and knife and methodically began cutting away at the simple western dish set before him, doing so with barely a look at his moving hands.

"If you get it dirty, we could just get another one." Cheeks burning at how easily she was read through, Rukia shook her head.

"I'm not that hungry anyways." She began meekly. "I can wait until later."

There was disapproval in his glance, and even though Rukia knew this she refused to touch the food before her. It wasn't until her brother's voice broke through her thoughts again that she looked up from the zoned out state she tried to stay in to avoid thinking of the food.

"A Kuchiki should not waste."

Byakuya caught her wince but said nothing more. He continued eating even as he heard the light clinking of the fork against the plate, eating slowly himself to give her more time.

Today was planned, after all. There was no rush.

* * *

The ride felt eternal.

Rukia had never been in a carriage before, and doing so for the first time under strange consequences such as these made her highly wary of something that on a different day would've kept her delighted. It was a carriage lifted straight out of the Victorian-influenced mangas she had read in the living world, plush and full of ornate detail on all sides. The gold swirling designs gave deep contrast to the black of the box they were in, cushions a shade of blood red and silky soft to the touch.

But even with all the luxury surrounding her, the petite shinigami was at the very least rather proud to say that she had not in any way damaged anything yet. Her clothing was still immaculate at the cost of half her breakfast, which she figured was all she could stomach before the nerves overtook everything and she really did spill on herself.

Cutting her losses and all that.

Not that any of that mattered since really, there had yet to be any word from her brother as to what the occasion was. But whatever it was, it was not going to be anything good.

She shifted.

Not one word had been spoken between the siblings—the only two inside. Setsuna was riding with the carriage master, as per society's rules, and so Rukia could find no one to bounce all the nervous thoughts off of. So instead she found herself fidgeting. Whether Byakuya noticed or not was beyond her at the moment, too enthralled by all the hype and confusion swirling in her own head.

"_Bring Sode no Shirayuki with you."_ He had requested at the table as she had raised the fork to her mouth. Rukia had frozen at the statement, biting back the urge to question the odd demand. For a moment her fork had hovered, her head bobbing slowly as she chose instead to nod.

"_Yes, nii-sama."_

She had been trying to dissect every moment of that morning down to the very way he held the utensils. Was there a clue she had missed? Something he had tried to tell her in some other way? Her intrigue and worry were so bad even, that she didn't notice that the carriage had long come to a stop at the bottom of a heavily forested hill gated off by high stone walls.

When finally she did look up, Byakuya had already begun opening the side door and stepped out. He waited patiently as both Setsuna and the coachman eased her out of the carriage, offering his arm to her as soon as she straightened but saying nothing.

The day was beautiful. If she hadn't been so constricted by the clothing, Rukia might've stopped for a moment to close her eyes and take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm her nerves. As it was, all she could do was thank the two servants, Setsuna giving her a long, reassuring look as she handed Rukia's katana over slowly before stepping back.

The weight was comforting in her hand, grip tightening as the other arm lightly lay over her brother's.

Ahead the gates had already been opened by the coachman. He said nothing, only bowed to the both of them before allowing them through and wrapping bony fingers around the metal to pull it closed once again. The loud protest of the wrought iron gate sent a shiver down Rukia's spine as her head involuntarily jerked back to watch the man lock it tight.

"Come."

It wasn't in a menacing or demanding way. If anything, the Kuchiki leader's voice was firm enough only to rip her eyes away from the gate and for that Rukia could only be thankful. There was something that completely unnerved her about the place as soon as they set foot inside and having him remind her he was there gave her a lifeline to cling to, some firm ground even though he still owed her an explanation.

Violet eyes fell to Byakuya almost in gratitude but he had long turned away from her gaze. And though she didn't understand why he reacted that way, Rukia only swallowed and walked with her head held high beside her brother—it was after all, the Kuchiki way.

But there was no one around.

It didn't take her long to realize they were the only two along the well worn path that winded up the hill lazily. Her eyes strayed from left to right and she strained to catch sight of movement, able only to discern the shapes of some birds, possibly a squirrel or two, and a trail of ants carrying a bright green leaf up a stump to her left.

That was when she noticed them.

Stones everywhere.

Hidden mostly by moss and high grasses, neglected for a very long time and showing signs of deterioration. These couldn't possibly be natural—the different shapes gave testament to that. The little path took them close to one of them and resisting the urge to stop to look, Rukia was barely able to make out the faded marks of a name on them.

It hit her then.

"It's not too much further." A sideways glance was all she spared to her brother, nodding grimly as they continued.

There was after all, no happiness in a graveyard.

* * *

It was a little grave—unmarked but clean, the only stone she had seen with not a single speck of dirt on it. There were small offerings and incense that must've been brought not too long ago—the perfume still lingered lightly around them, cloaking them almost in welcome.

When Byakuya stopped, Rukia did with him. Her head rose in question and their eyes met, and it wasn't until then that she finally felt her brother's arm begin to slip away from her. Her initial reaction was to hold on to him tighter out of a panic that had been stewing in her heart for the whole of the morning, but she repressed it before the urge reached down to the trembling hand that felt the fabric of his clothes slip past it.

For a moment they stood like that, the morning sun falling in ribbons between the leaves, dancing as the forest life moved among the many branches. Even here the grass was a vivid green, but it was wild. It seemed as if very little was done to keep the sites cleared except for the one they stood before, and the petite shinigami wondered fleetingly how they could allow such insult to the other people's graves—felt indignant on their behalf even.

There was no breeze, no sound past the occasional scurry or flap of wings.

Swallowing, Rukia barely noticed when her brother finally moved—watched intrigued as Byakuya took her hand and revealed the flower held in his own: a bloom she recognized only to be grown in the gardens behind his room, dusted a light lavender that reminded her of Sode no Shirayuki.

Without a word he took it and placed it in her open palm, closing her fingers gently around it.

The beauty of the bloom in her hand left her breathless for a moment, the young woman stunned that her brother would go so far as to kill one from his own gardens to bring it as an offering to someone. He never allowed anyone to touch them, let alone help him tend to them. Out of all the things growing around the Kuchiki manor, they were the one type that he refused to let anyone care for. To see one now willingly placed into her care left her reeling and completely unable to hide the emotion that flitted onto her features as her head jerked up towards his in question.

Who could possibly mean enough to her brother that he willingly let go of such a prized rarity so easily?

She almost asked him, lips parting to do so until she noted his gaze and how he turned meaningfully then, almost gesturing with it towards the grave as if urging her forward. Rukia glanced from him to the stone, unsure of herself even as she swallowed, carefully caging the bloom between curled fingers and palm, taking the first measured step towards the gravestone. Looking back over one shoulder she allowed her uncertainty to show for a moment, almost expecting Byakuya to berate her for having moved without his verbal permission.

It was to her surprise then, that she was met instead with clear gray eyes that offered no chastise.

Gods, it was there again, that awful grief in his features that seemed to age him by centuries in that one moment and almost made her turn back towards him instead. But then he closed his eyes and shook his head, pursing his lips and gesturing for her to keep going. When his eyes opened once more, she realized, the mask of a man unperturbed returned.

The fist around Sode no Shirayuki visibly tightened.

Her second step followed when she saw Byakuya wasn't going to move, and she bit hard on her bottom lip to keep from asking questions. Maybe Setsuna would berate her later for ruining her painted lips—but that didn't matter at the moment so she discarded the thought for now. Instead she squared her jaw, holding Sode no Shirayuki against the flower with both hands now to keep them from trembling as she finally came to kneel before the tiny gravestone.

It was simple, she noted. No final words, dates, anything to give any indication of the person who's soul had long ago passed into the cycle she bore witness to protect. If anything there was more life surrounding the stone than the forest itself in the form of offerings, incense, and flowers even—orchids.

Like the one she held.

Violet eyes rose to the name on the stone and her hand hovered near it as she tried to set the orchid among the other offerings.

_Hisana Kuchiki._

"She loved orchids." Byakuya's voice startled her in the silence. There was something in the usual Kuchiki tone—an undercurrent she couldn't decipher that pulled at her heartstrings almost enough to make her turn. She was afraid though, of what she would see.

"They were reminders, she said, of the place where she had tried to raise you."

Numbly, Rukia set the flower down among the others.

This was her sister.

This was the girl who had the same face as her, who had stolen Byakuya nee-sama's heart, who had been someone in the world one time—someone who breathed and spoke and told stories; who ate and walked and maybe even laughed sometimes.

There was a lump in her throat that Rukia tried to swallow.

Had she sung and held her, rocking her like the hollow had on the roof? Had she offered her warmth and compassion, soothing the tears of Rukia's baby self away and fought until she had no choice?

Rukia's vision blurred for a moment, shoulders trembling as she tried to take a hold of the emotions that suddenly engulfed her. Sode no Shirayuki was touching her cheek, fingers cool and breath chilling her skin as she whispered something Rukia could not hear past the ringing in her ears.

"Why. . ." She asked breathlessly, trying to calm the erratic beating of her heart. She was trying really hard not to break down, to show the mess—the confusion—that she was feeling inside, fingers wrapped tightly around the scabbard of her katana and ears full of the lullaby from the night where she nearly died.

The harder she tried to see past the growing tears, the more it echoed in her mind and it finally reached a point where she had to clamp her jaw shut, stumbling somehow back to her brother's side.

_Byakuya nii-sama is here. I can't cry! _

_I can't. . . . _

She was clenching her jaw so tight that she thought her teeth would be ground to dust. Tears made her vision blur in and out of focus on the writing etched across the stone and looking forward only served to remind her and make her clench her fingers tighter around the blade in her hands, knuckles stark white against the pale of her skin.

_"You remember that song, don't you?"_

Had that really been. . . her voice?

"Hisana spent many days talking about you. She would tell me things about you—like the birthmark on your left shoulder blade. She said that it looked like a crescent moon to her."

No one had seen it before. It was too small to notice unless someone came up close to her back and so the only ones fully aware of it were Setsuna and herself—or at least that was what the petite shinigami had thought.

"She said that you would probably have a scar on your knee-" (She did.) "-And that the violet of your eyes came from your father. The scar came from a time you two were running from a Hollow and that your eyes. . . they were something that she just knew when she looked at you."

There was no reply, and Byakuya found it hard almost, to continue. He knew Rukia was listening even though she was silent and he wondered what bitter thoughts were running behind the violet of her eyes as she stared solemnly at her sister's grave.

The tears glittered in her gaze but she seemed determined not to let them fall.

If only he could just tell her everything. Tell her how his wife spoke of nothing but her, breathed, ate, and lived by the hope that somewhere out there her sister was among the many throngs of strays in the dirtiest holes of Rukongai _surviving_.

There were many days he had spent by Hisana's bedside listening to countless stories of the little ghost in her heart. He remembered the way her voice cracked whenever she got emotional—the way she fidgeted (like Rukia) when anxious, or how she lifted a hand that could've nearly passed as a ghost's and forced herself to be properly dressed and seated by the porch to await his return from his duties as captain, hoping he would have news for her.

Byakuya memorized every detail she had mentioned. He took to reciting the little tidbits in his mind as he stared at the ceiling of his large empty room into the hours of the morning, learning by heart that Rukia was a child with hair as dark as the deepest night and eyes a shade of violet more vivid than any flower. He learned that she wasn't a very loud child, and that her nose was tiny and pert. He came to know well that she wasn't afraid of the dark and that Hisana would leave her alone for hours at a time to search for food, terrified that one day she would be unable to come back.

And it became burned into his heart that above all, Hisana was more afraid for her sister than herself.

In this way Byakuya came to know, to _understand_ the shape of his wife's face, fearing every time might be the last time he would be able to. Because it was only in those times that _little Rukia_ was brought up, that _little Rukia_ was described and fleshed out again and practically formed in his own arms- that was when Hisana would come to life if only for a little while.

The stories, anecdotes, every little word served to fuel her drive to stay alive if just a day longer in hopes that Byakuya would succeed where she had not and it lit up her eyes before the cough returned and everything was drowned out by her inability to breathe again.

And though he could not find how to put all this into words, Byakuya knew it was something he had to get across to the young shinigami. She had to know that Hisana loved her with all her being.

She had to believe it in her heart as deeply as she believed in everything else.

Because he was well aware that if he chose to marry and another woman came into their lives, it could mean she was pushed into the shadows again as useless—could be pressured more as a shinigami as a consequence, and expectation would rise above the meager beginnings she had been forced out of to the point of maybe even breaking her.

And if she was forced to marry . . . well . . .

The nights had been long while she had been away on her mission in the real world—had given him a chance to think, to consider every possible outcome of their situation with minute detail. And though he still had yet to find a reasonable solution with minimal damage, there was one thing in every scenario that ran through his mind as he watched the clock go endlessly that he came to realize he could not allow.

Because logically, who wouldn't let hatred blossom for a being who had abandoned them and then left them at the mercy of a stranger? Who _wouldn't_ be angry at ghosts of the past that cast a shadow so deep they might as well be drowning in it?

Who wouldn't hate the dead woman who had ultimately forced them down a certain path?

At last it came to fruition in his mind, this urgency to nurture, the plans for this very trip coming to him rapidly after. Because their time was running out and there was no avoiding it. And maybe one day soon, Rukia would come to hate him as well for whatever path he chose for the both of them—in fact he almost would willingly bet on it. He didn't blame her, to be honest, but there were things even he could not overstep and the time to truly keep to his word had come.

There was no turning back now.

So maybe she would hate him—but she didn't have to hate Hisana. And if protecting his wife's final link to the young woman beside him meant having to step into the role of the hated, then so be it.

Maybe this would be his final call to arms under his vow to his dead wife. Someday, someone else would have to take up the mantle of protector by her side as her husband, would become the man to help her when she was down and take it upon them to breathe only for her—of that much he would make sure. The feeling such a thought gave him wasn't a pleasant one, but he swallowed it anyways. If it happened then that was it.

There was nothing he would be able to do to change it-but until the time for their parting came, there were things he still had to do.

"She described you in detail in hopes that when she finally did give me her final request I would have all the information I needed."

Rukia stood silent, unwavering, pillar-like beside him. But nearly half a century with her in the shadows of the manor taught him to see the subtleties even now she failed to hide. Things like the way her jaw clenched, or how her eyes failed to snuff out all of the overwhelming confusion—how even the light crease in her pale brow revealed she was trying not to cry though the tears were all but gone from her eyes.

And so, without much warning (and before he changed his mind) he hesitantly pulled his sister closer into a loose embrace. Hisana would've wanted this, he reasoned, trying to ignore the way Rukia stiffened in his grasp.

"You were never afraid of the dark and you got sick once when you're sister tried to feed you fish. For a while she thought you were allergic to something in them so she stopped feeding you that."

The deep timbre of his voice resounded in his chest and hummed through her ear in a way too soothing to ignore. It was soft but it had the undertone of strength she had come to associate with him even though it too was laced with sadness. Only through that small concession did Rukia realize that she wasn't the only one hurting and fresh tears sprung to her eyes, realizing that more than the pain of growing up in uncertainty, her brother's inability to save his ailing wife, _the love of his life_, must be a million times worse because unlike her, he could've given her anything either world had to offer except the one thing she desperately needed: health.

For a moment Rukia felt lost as her brother gently pulled her away from him, thinking for a panicking second that she had shown way too much emotion and that she would be reprimanded for it. But then their eyes met and he slowly turned her to face her sister's grave, his hands pulling back on her trembling shoulders to force her to stand straight. Too confused to even stop the few tears that escaped meekly down her wet cheeks, Rukia allowed him to do it without much resistance, lifting her chin up automatically and allowing her brow to furrow when he told her to call upon her blade.

"Mae, Sode no Shirayuki." She beckoned in a quivering whisper.

Immediately the blade began to glow and the ribbon sprouted from the hilt, the familiar glittering bells sending a crisp echo through the forest surrounding them. The cool ripple in the joined reiatsu sent fallen leaves dancing and the long grasses swaying around them, the cold of her spirit sending a light almost electric tingle through her veins and giving the petite shinigami means to keep herself from spiraling into the emotions she felt.

It reminded her she wasn't alone.

Sode no Shirayuki had just barely finished her transformation before long warm fingers fell over Rukia's own small ones and Byakuya's hands began to guide her into lifting the blade. Surprised at the sudden intimacy, Rukia could do nothing but obey, relaxing her arms and becoming malleable in his grasp. When he finally seemed satisfied with how she was holding it he lightly (hesitantly) let go of her and took a step back. The long white blade twinkled proudly in the ribbons of light that filtered between the trees, breathtakingly beautiful in all her simplicity.

"Hisana should see Kuchiki Rukia."

The blade wavered subtly in the young shinigami's hand.

"Hisana should see the sister she dreamed of so much—someone she would be proud of."

A lady, she realized.

The energy left her limbs in one large wave, taking all the air from her lungs with it, pulled by the dawning of realization in her mind. Suddenly all the preparation, the clothes, the strange treatment, _everything_ made sense.

A lady of refinement and grace with great pride as the shinigami she was—_that_ was what her brother meant to bring—what he wanted _Hisana_ to see.

The way her heart broke in that moment was almost audible to her as the grip she had on Sode no Shirayuki weakened and the katana slipped out of her grasp.

Sode no Shirayuki didn't say a word in Rukia's mind—didn't reprimand her for the treatment as she lay before Hisana's grave. She sat primly (tethered) beside her blade instead, watching, offering a warm smile to Senbonzakura as he came to sit beside her to keep silent vigil over their masters.

The fallen leaves didn't crunch under his feet—the birds didn't chirp.

Nothing moved.

Only in that silence did Rukia Kuchiki begin to tremble uncontrollably, numb to the feeling of the grass beneath her knees as they met the ground, unaware even of the tears that came in earnest from her violet eyes. She tried in vain to keep from offering a single sound but failed miserably, a small cry rising in her throat and escaping from the lips she clapped a shivering hand over before she hunched over more in shame of her state than anything else.

Everything she had done . . . her brother was proud of her. Through all they had been and every defiance she had done, he was _proud_ of her.

And maybe somewhere, the spirit of her sister was smiling down at her as well.

The very thought made her feel humbled before the simple grave, moved to tears by that jumbled mess of happiness and a deep rooted sadness, grieving over the fact that she would never be able to speak to the woman that had helped shape her and even gave Byakuya nii-sama a glimpse of true joy.

Her violet eyes were closed, emotion overwhelming and sending her head spinning too much for her to try and rise. It came as a surprise then, when her petite frame was enveloped in strong arms and she was pulled into a silent embrace.

And though she didn't exactly understand, Rukia welcomed her brother's warmth, curling into him. Her tiny hands clung onto his clothes, her face burying itself against his chest and her mind reassured in the heartbeat beneath the layers, the smell of sakura blossoms coming from his skin filling her nose.

She cried for herself and for him—though in the end she felt it was more for her brother and the sadness that weighed him down, revealed by a sliver in his words to her that day. If her heart was in ruins then he was worse because unlike her, he had known the feel of Hisana's hand on his—knew what her favorite food was and how she slept, whether she liked to go barefoot or preferred sandals, and maybe even whether she preferred one season over another.

But most of all, he knew her love.

Rukia cried for what seemed like forever, feelings flowing out of her and engulfing everything in a blur of colors and senses; a swirl of muddled time.

It caused the effortless hold on her reiatsu to loosen, at one point feeling little ice crystals sticking to her hand when she reached to brush a few of the tears away. And though they came to even adorn his clothes, Byakuya said nothing.

If he thought she was revolting he didn't say it. If he thought that she should stop he didn't show it. Instead he stayed calm, arms cradling the young woman with nothing but unwavering patience.

There were no words of comfort because they were useless.

He couldn't lie and tell her it would be okay because even he wasn't sure at this point. Byakuya refused to lie to her. So instead he gave her the only support he knew how, ignoring the tears that stained clothes worth more than a tiny village—holding silently, staying close at a time he would usually be distant.

And it was funny really, the girl in his arms realized with a small hiccup, how Setsuna would really have something to chide her about now. She would go on and on about how long they had spent getting her ready and how the makeup was probably all ruined and how the smooth skin of her hands had smears of the eyeliner on them. She would reprimand her, gently but firmly, on proper etiquette and how she shouldn't have given into the emotion as easily as she had because she was a noblewoman and ladies of her status didn't cry in such an ugly and crude fashion.

Because that was what she was learning to be, no?

With that sobering thought in mind, weakened as her limbs felt, Rukia tried to take control over the tears, finally loosening the grip on her brother and slowly pulling away once her breathing began to even out. She wouldn't lie—even after he had stayed silent on her display for so long she was afraid to look up and see a disapproving look on his features—to see a subtle frown at her behavior or anything indicating that she shouldn't have allowed herself such a luxury.

So she didn't.

Instead the petite shinigami disentangled herself from him, hesitant, swallowing as she tried to regain her composure.

"Come."

She hadn't noticed when he had stood and picked up Sode no Shirayuki. Following the length of the blade to the hand that held it, Rukia swallowed before forcing herself onto shaky legs. The cool blade slipped from his hold to hers once she wrapped pale fingers around it, violet eyes studying his larger, more calloused hand for a moment before she took a firmer grip on her katana and pulled it towards herself.

The captain looked her over subtly, calmly pulling a small white kerchief from a hidden pocket and offering it to her. He waited, impassive, as Rukia took it and tried to the best of her abilities to compose herself, finally handing the cloth back with a weak 'thank you'. It was only when he returned to her side and offered his arm that Rukia finally found the courage to glance up at his face and into his eyes.

The gray steel gaze she had become accustomed to held steadily ahead of them. And though on the surface it seemed as if he was being uncaring, Rukia knew better. The way he slowed his stride for her and kept his arm firm underneath her own served as reminders that beneath it all Byakuya _did_ care. It revealed more in its' silence than any words the captain possibly could've tried to say—offered a warmth and reassurance no spoken thing could do alone.

So she didn't question him.

Instead she lifted her chin, sniffing back the last of her tears as she tried to walk as confidently as possible beside him—like she belonged there, smeared eyeliner and all.

And as emotionally worn out as she was it wasn't past her to allow the tiniest of smiles to tug at the corners of her mouth (if only weakly) as they walked back to the carriage. Because no matter what happened, no matter who stepped into their lives or tried to destroy their world, Rukia at least could fight to her last breath knowing her precious nii-sama believed in her.

And that he always had.

* * *

The rest of the trip was a blur of silence.

The gate closed behind them and they moved into the carriage, both figures choosing to sit on the same side even though Rukia didn't dare to encroach on Byakuya's half of the seat more out of respect than any sort of fear of him.

They both needed time to think, after all.

Nonetheless, the trip seemed short as the younger of the two siblings finally allowed herself to relax her shoulders a bit, sighing lightly as the lavender of her gaze roved over the landscape through the window, following the gently sloping hills of green dotted with trees. When this slipped back into well worn dirt roads and people began to become less scarce she took to staring at the clear skies, following the trek of a flock of birds as they flew by.

It almost seemed like she blinked and suddenly she was back in her chambers, dressed now in a much less formal yukata and sitting on the porch, drinking in the magnificent view of the gardens behind her room.

If Setsuna wanted to say something she swallowed it down when she had first seen her master's pale complexion at their return to the carriage. In fact she hadn't said a word since they had returned, helping Rukia tidy herself up and choosing clothes for her that would not hinder the young woman. After that she excused herself, finding it unnecessary for her to stay with Rukia in such a deep state of thought.

Since then, Rukia hadn't moved from the porch.

Shinigami that she was though (so much for getting anti-sickness perks—what about achy muscles?), it didn't dull out the pain of her legs from sitting in the same position so long and so finally sighing, the black haired young woman rose to try and see if walking would get rid of the pins and needles sensation currently travelling through her staggering limbs.

"_Hisana should see Kuchiki Rukia." _

Her walk started first in a few circles around the gardens, at one point wondering whether she had seen the koi pond two or three times already after having covered the whole perimeter of the manor. Sighing at the thought, her eyes strayed back to the large building and she wondered whether she should instead take her walk inside. It didn't take her long to discard the idea though, frowning until her gaze fell on the front gate and an idea began to nibble at her mind.

"_Hisana should see the sister she dreamed of so much—someone she would be proud of."_

Before she could think that over and talk herself out of it, Rukia stepped towards the guards and waited for them to open the gate, stopping just outside to take off her sandals.

She didn't look back exactly.

"_Come." _

But she didn't look forward either.

* * *

For a moment Toushiro Hitsugaya stood, unsure whether to disturb the woman or not. From what he could see between the branches she was motionless—probably daydreaming or thinking and reluctance slowed his steps through the ankle high grasses.

What did he have to gain by disturbing her?

She wasn't moving _at all_. If it wasn't for the familiar reiatsu whispering past him in light waves, he wouldn't have even known she was there when he walked out of his office with the desperation of a man trapped by his own title and the shackles of inky signatures. It was getting to the point where it wouldn't be surprising to _bleed_ ink in training. He needed to breathe and his feet led him here, which he hadn't really noticed (stuck in wanderings of his own) until the cool of her aura washed over him and left the hairs on the back of his neck standing.

It froze him there, staring involuntarily at the spot where he felt it most concentrated.

The reiatsu felt . . . off.

There was something wrong. Toushiro didn't know how he knew this, but it was there, forming a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he allowed himself two more steps forward before stopping again.

_Hey, yeah, I saw you there and wanted to know what's wrong. _

Yeah . . . that would go over well.

"_There's something wrong. It is your duty as a captain to see what it is. I'm sure Sode no Shirayuki would appreciate it as well."_

Begrudgingly, Hitsugaya admitted Hyourinmaru had a point.

Funny really, how he could face down beings like Aizen, take on Matsumoto's charm without a grimace, run a whole division efficiently, and yet he couldn't bring himself to find a good excuse to check on _one_ little shinigami.

Emphasis on little.

With minimal effort he picked his way through the many woven roots until he could see her form leaning against the thick bark and sitting on one of the higher branches with knees drawn.

At the current angle he couldn't really see her face very well, and he swallowed down the uncertainty in his voice, marveling fleetingly how it was she even got up there in a yukata.

"If I didn't know any better I would swear you're up to something."

Startled, Rukia looked down, blinking large violet eyes in surprise. To the captain's relief, there wasn't even an inkling of annoyance at his sudden disruption. "Hitsugaya-taichou, what are you doing here?"

He raised a brow in question.

"Am I not allowed to come here?" Arms crossing, he regarded her with a straight face even as a furious blush that he could see even from below overtook her features.

"N-no, of course you're allowed! I'm sorry, that came out wrong." Cerulean orbs followed as she easily leapt down from the branch with skilled ease, landing gracefully a few feet from him and bowing deeply.

"My apologies, sir."

She looked tiny in the dark blue summer yukata she wore, the bow on her back looking more like short thick wings than the folds of the obi. The yukata itself was plain, with large yellow flowers and revealing how her hands clasped together nervously, as well as the shuffling of petite (and bare) feet.

His eyes met hers as he quirked a brow. "Don't you wear shoes?"

"They're under the tree."

Pointing in their general direction, she faced him again with sudden anxiety as she realized the implications of having breached etiquette in front of a captain (noble upbringing should never be forgotten, after all). She had known from the beginning it would be a long road to finally become the perfect lady of the Kuchiki noble court, but now that she was actively going to try, it seemed worse.

Kicking herself mentally, she almost wanted to sigh in frustration at her inability to keep to these new self-implemented rules after such a short time (well, at least the instructions she had tried to ignore from the elders before).

"Not even a day and already I'm forgetting etiquette."-A wince- "I apologize."

Regarding her for a moment with _both_ brows rising to his hairline, Hitsugaya almost snorted but swallowed it down when he noticed Rukia was serious. Certainly if she was worrying about such trivial matters everything was okay, no?

It had to be—so then why was he still not convinced when he looked at her?

Allowing his face to fall back to its usual bored expression, his head tilted to one side as he asked, "Is it Sereitei business?"

Looking rather befuddled, Rukia allowed her brow to furrow pensively before she answered in a hesitant voice, "Uh. . . no?"

"Then it's none of my business either."

_Ever the serious one, _Rukiathought with fondness. She relaxed into a smile, hiding it behind a petite hand before nodding. "Thank you, Hitsugaya-san."

Before he could become flustered over her sincerity Toushiro waved her action away, trying to hide the pink tinge on his cheeks as he tried to change the subject.

"So what are you doing here? You're wearing civilian clothes so I'd say it's safe to assume it's your day off—shouldn't you be at home enjoying it?"

He didn't miss the slight falter of her smile.

Ah, so he _was_ right.

Her gaze turned towards the lake and there was a slight crease to her brow that he knew, from their recent encounters together, to be her subconscious revealing the turbulence underneath the calm and tranquil façade.

"Just. . ." Shrugging halfheartedly she replied, "needed a place to think."

Was that. . . her asking him to leave?

Of course it was, he thought immediately. She had looked deep in thought, silent as she was up in the tree, so what else was she there to do? See him? Of course not.

Irritation at his brainless whim overrode everything else in the captain's suddenly muddled head and the skin between his brows wrinkled into a mild glower as he looked sullenly away.

"I'll just leave you alone, I'm sure you have a lot to sort out then."

Turning to leave, he didn't expect the hand that fell on his shoulder. "No!"

Their eyes met as he faced her again and Rukia's cheeks became red, violet eyes concentrating on his feet. "I uh, I mean. . . you don't have to."

Slowly her hand slipped away, curling into a fist that fell to her side.

The distance between them wasn't much, but it might as well be miles. She was asking something of him that he was afraid to say yes to, unable to calculate the trillions of possibilities that flashed in his mind as they stood there. If he stayed it could mean something—_anything_—and that would drive him insane with what-if's (did she specifically want _him_ to stay? Had the kiss actually meant something to her then? Was she trying to bridge that gap since he wasn't lifting a finger?).

If he left though, the picture still hidden in his breast pocket would mean nothing—would be short of useless except to maybe recall as a friendly little moment of chat, a time when comrades sat down and relaxed, comfortable in their detachment.

He would be building a wall between them.

Licking his lips nervously, he opened them to speak (not exactly knowing what to say), only to clamp them shut again as his eyes settled on the mauve shade of Rukia's. If there was ever anything that could stop his breath it was that vibrant hue of lavender—of uncertainty and a resolve that was shaken under the substantial weight of the feelings binding her.

She was wringing her hands—he was trying not to suddenly imagine his heart between them.

Finally after what seemed like forever, Toushiro allowed himself to sigh before gesturing lazily towards the tree where she had been perched.

"Come on." He muttered.

To hell with caution, to hell with worries. He was as human as her and she needed him. Maybe not him specifically (though he wasn't going to pursue this train of thought) and so the world could go screwy for a while if it meant helping calm Rukia's nerves—even if he had no idea what to do.

Visibly relaxing, his companion nodded. She didn't dare to climb the tree again. Doing so would be rude on her part, she figured, and at least this much she wanted to get right. Instead she followed Toushiro towards the base of gnarled, tangled roots and found a seat, eyes following the captain as he leaned against the rough bark and crossed his arms, gaze absently falling on the lake before them.

Allowing her back to slide down the rough bark of the tree, Rukia sat down beside him with crossed arms, head falling back as she looked up into the branches and found herself following the path of a bird landing in a nest near the highest parts.

She was close enough to touch if Toushiro wanted and yet also far enough away that it wasn't intimate, and he mentally thanked her for respecting his space even now.

And even though he really didn't mean to, he found himself comparing her to the young woman he had grown up with. _She_ would've plopped down beside him. _She_ wouldn't have cared about the space between them and she would've started spilling everything in her mind as soon as she had settled. Momo would've—

"I met my sister today."

Her eyes were glued to the swaying branches, face passive. If she noticed Hitsugaya's open, raised brow reaction, she didn't say anything. And if the white haired prodigy hadn't been such an avid observer, he would dare to say the serene smile on her face was real. Instead he swallowed, brow furrowed suddenly as he tried to choose his words more carefully at this insight.

"I thought your sister . . ."

"Nee-sama took me to her grave." When nothing but silence answered her, she continued in a near whisper. "He wanted me to meet her. We took orchids for her since they're her favorite."

The petite shinigami's shifting reminded him of their proximity and he looked down at her, noting how even now she was being proper in the way she carried herself. Sunlight fell on them in tiny puddles deformed by the shadows of the branches above and Toushiro could find nothing to say to the eyes that met his own, carefully guarded behind a wall that barely did anything to hide the insecurity from him.

Why Kuchiki Byakuya would do such a thing after what Rukia had seen on their mission was beyond him. Did he not see the effect it had on his adopted sibling? For her to come out so far from home, walking the whole way and willingly speaking to someone she barely knew on such a personal level she must've not been able to take the silence anymore. Surely Byakuya couldn't be cold hearted enough to just disappear when she needed him most, could he?

He _couldn't_. . .

Then again this was Rukia, and it wasn't hard to discern the high regard with which she spoke of her brother. So it was also a possibility in his mind that she had tucked away everything in her mind to keep from bothering him with such issues.

"_It's very hard to get Byakuya-niisama to speak about her at all."_

But what could possibly drive the stoic clan leader to finally reveal these things about his late wife?

And even with all that—what could _Toushiro_ say to her? She was troubled and here he was standing beside her and yet he was totally unable to help against the onslaught of emotions now pounding away at her heart.

There was _**nothing**_ he could do.

All he could see was the twin on the roof—the woman cradling a bleeding gigai and humming a lullaby lovingly, smiling back at him as if welcoming another of her children home. The large eyes, the soft features, the chill that ran down his spine- every time her image flashed in his head, the details became things he just couldn't erase no matter how wrong he knew they were.

"You're not. . . crying." Was all he could manage. His eyes fell to the lake again, the captain unsure of how to proceed without disrespecting his companion in any way and yet being unable to just reach down and console her. What could he do, hug her?

That was ridiculous.

Her light chuckle caught him off guard, eyes tearing away from the body of water to meet her gaze filled with mirth. Staring at him with brows raised, Rukia shook her head lightly as if he had said something childish.

"But Hitsugaya-san," the cadence of her voice was amused, as if it answered everything. "I'm a Kuchiki."

A momentary silence, and then, "I see."

_What was your reaction? Did you cry in front of her grave? _

An image of the petite shinigami on her knees, huddled and weeping tore through his ribcage and straight into his twisting heart unexpectedly.

Surely her brother couldn't have done anything like that out of malice, could he?

Could Byakuya. . . _resent_ the fact that Rukia lived but his wife didn't?

The thought hung like a shadow, darkening his gaze and a frown subtly marring his features.

"_Sode no Shirayuki would not allow it, I don't think. And after having nearly given his life for her on Sokyoku Hill, I doubt Kuchiki Byakuya would do something so foolish."_

But what did Hyourinmaru know? Even after saying that, it came out not quite as confident as he thought it would. Besides, Aizen had gotten past them that way—they had learned that through a long and bloody battle.

But he couldn't tell that to Rukia.

"I don't know how to feel."

Sighing through his nose, Toushiro slowly, hesitantly took a seat beside her and leaned against the thick trunk, following her gaze into the upper branches. He absentmindedly plucked one of the long wisps of grass that had found its way towards the sun between the roots surrounding them, picking the thin strands of it apart with his fingers.

After a long while, he frowned.

"You're not supposed to know everything. No one is."

Glancing at her proved Rukia to be mulling his answer over until she feebly shrugged one shoulder, one finger lazily tracing the outline of one of the flowers on her yukata.

"I don't know what this is supposed to mean."

Her gaze lowered from the top of the tree towards his and they met, the uncertainty swirling in her irises openly as she studied his features.

The white of his brow was furrowed, the petite shinigami realized, and she wondered if it was out of worry.

For him to be there even if he had stayed silent would've been enough for her; would've helped remind her that through it all she was still alive and people still would be there regardless of the universe-changing event that had happened to her. Ichigo after all, had become her pillar of an unwaveringly normal tomorrow—her reminder that no matter what, they would have lunch together and he would still call her a midget, and that on occasions she could still harass him into buying Chappy artifacts from the living world for her.

Simplicity; solid ground in a world where she knew none.

But he was gone now—he was human after all and could only be minutely allowed into their troubles anymore. And Renji. . . he was too obsessed with becoming stronger to acknowledge her existence anymore.

It was all of this (plus the fact that it was _him_) that made her marvel at the fact that he was trying to be supportive in his own hushed way. It made something in her belly stir in a way she had never felt before, causing her to shift uncomfortably as she dipped her head to hide the sudden tinge on her cheeks.

Nobody had ever had this sort of effect on her. This. . . whatever it was. There were people she was definitely close to but they were friends—had always been. This little knot in her stomach was nothing like what she felt when she was around Ichigo. With him she could be herself and climb on his back, pester and prod him, and still he would always be there for her, would be the one to offer a hand and tell her to stop looking like crap because it wasn't the end of the world.

But this. . .

He wasn't saying much.

He wasn't moving or telling her to stand up, to get a grip, to just shake it off.

He just. . . listened.

She took that thought and cloaked her heart in its warmth as she turned to look at the form of the captain leaning against the tree beside her. Until then she hadn't really been connected with reality, too enveloped in her own thoughts to really realize that she was talking to someone who probably had a lot of work waiting for him back in his office and the notion sobered her.

As a shinigami, Rukia could allow herself no more of his precious time during such a critical turning point for their world, what with all the healing still left to do from the extensive damage. Sighing, her attention diverted to the roots surrounding them.

"Sorry." She murmured after a moment, "You probably don't want to hear any of this. I'm just here taking up your time. I should probably-" Making to get up, she was halfway there before a hand gripping her arm stopped her.

Both of them froze.

"Just. . ." Toushiro's grip loosened hesitantly. "Stay."

He frowned then, and Rukia found it an endearing combination that she had never seen before. Distaste was obvious in the way his brows knit but if she looked closely enough, something else was there in his eyes, tender almost, and certainly quite tangible—almost as if it were on the tip of his tongue and for a moment Rukia felt disappointed it hadn't made it through.

Nodding mutely, Rukia took her seat again. It didn't take her long to realize with a certain dread that she had actually somehow managed to sit closer to him this time.

Their shoulders brushed when she shifted uncomfortably, but neither made any indication of moving.

"If I had wanted to ignore you, I could've." The deep timbre of his voice made Rukia want to look up, but she resisted. Instead her gaze fell to the two hands between them—one pale and tiny, the other darker toned and strong looking—and she wondered briefly what it would be like to have it enveloping her own.

She subdued the notion before it could go any further.

"I could've just walked back to the division when I stepped out for fresh air and saw you sitting there."

He didn't see her—it was his senses that led him closer. Telling her this was embarrassing though, like he had actively sought her out and so he conveniently omitted it.

It wasn't necessary for her to know, the white haired youth reasoned.

"I didn't, though. And I don't think it crossed my mind to not come see what you were doing here."

She seemed to think over his statement over for what seemed like forever, a light frown letting him know she wasn't convinced yet. Before she could argue in any form of further pursuit of it however, he cut her off.

"I will stay as long as you need me to."

"But—"

"Shh." He demanded, putting a finger up to his lips and closing his eyes. His head fell back to meet the bark of the tree and he swallowed, settling himself better for what looked to be a nap.

"That was an order, by the way." He said, knowing without looking that there was a disapproving glare aimed at him.

It didn't take the petite shinigami long to give in, huffing her indignance at being left without a choice. And although it wasn't beyond her to ask why he had seemed motivated to come see her (let alone _stay_), she figured asking might really drive him away and so she instead clamped her mouth shut. Leaning back, pale eyelids fluttered closed as she sighed audibly.

Behind the dark of her closed eyes she imagined all the confused emotions pouring out in that one drawn out breath. Small hands fell into her lap as she relaxed into a more comfortable position, fingers no longer interested in the intricacy of the blooms on the yukata and delicate toes flexing to avoid the sensation of pins and needles. Once she had settled, stillness fell over them comfortably.

"I don't hate her for abandoning me." Was the small declaration after some time.

Toushiro could feel the warmth radiating from her figure even without moving. Lazily tilting his head towards hers, his eyes opened and he allowed a tug at one of the corners of his mouth into a partial smirk. "Well, it's a start."

She too turned then, heart stopping at the proximity of the captain (which she had not really thought was _this_ much before). It would be too awkward if she turned away now. Knowing this, she forced her gaze to meet the captain's directly.

"Yeah," She replied, suddenly nervous. "I guess it is."

His eyes were beautiful, her scatterbrain thoughts pointed out delightfully. Horror stabbed through her when she sought and failed to force herself to look away, her own eyes wide with uncertainty at the situation. The aquamarine hue of the orbs that captivated her glittered in the scattered light, a storm roiling through them and mesmerizing her with its strength.

It seemed in that instant that all her senses decided to kick into overdrive, hitting the unsuspecting young woman with an onslaught of _him_.

His scent was light, subtle even, but nevertheless intoxicatingly masculine. There was nothing like it—it was unique and nothing she could give a name to, but it was there and _embracing_ her. And what everyone else branded as an aura that left people shivering when he was near actually felt oddly warm to her.

Maybe even a bit soothing somehow.

It made Rukia realize that through everything, through every title he held, he was still human enough underneath it all that he could feel her there just as much as she did him.

He could probably smell the lavender off of her skin. Maybe he could also feel her hot breath upon his face as she unknowingly leaned in, lashes automatically lowering and closing the violet hue of her eyes away.

Closing, they both only slightly realized, like the distance between their lips.

Neither of them knew what to expect of it, but what happened was nothing short of dizzying. It had been a long time since Toushiro had honestly kissed someone but he doubted that that fact had anything to do with the enormous (and certainly heart stopping) effect Rukia immersed him in. Neither was aware of when his hand came up to cup her cheek, or when, for that matter, they had shifted to better kiss.

Her lips were softer than he could've ever imagined.

It seemed like the world stopped, revolving around nothing but the wave of sensations that drowned them. All at once Toushiro could feel her lips moving against his own and his heart hammering through his ribcage; the softness of her yukata left goose bumps in its wake against his skin. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he found himself wondering for a second if she could feel everything too, senses heightened to a level nothing could ever compare to.

But then Rukia's lips parted against his and any further indulgence into such idle curiosities crumbled away.

It wasn't until their lungs reminded them they needed air that they finally broke apart, if not a bit hesitantly. The warmth of his hand lingered upon Rukia's cheek, the hot of his breath sending delightful shivers down her spine. Their foreheads were touching, he realized, but a sudden fear to open his eyes and find this had all been a dream stopped him from trying to move.

It would be too wicked waking up to find her napping undisturbed beside him.

But it couldn't be avoided. Slowly they opened their eyes and reality began to sluggishly drag the world on its axis once more. Their gazes met and for a moment Toushiro couldn't remember how to breathe again, couldn't remove the hand that still lingered on her skin because it was telling him with every little bit of touch that she was really there beside him—flushed cheeks, violet orbs, and all.

Unfortunately for the two, this enrapture came along amid the delightful little crash course towards the wall of reality that would hit in three. . .

Two. . .

One. . .

Cue reality check.

Rukia had just kissed a _captain_.

Toushiro had just kissed the highest nobleman's _sister_.

Both had no idea what to say as they pulled apart in a hurry.

"I-"

"We-"

They both started and stopped at the same time. They lingered awkwardly in the silence for a moment, wide-eyed and unsure what exactly had just happened.

Had they really kissed or was it a delusion on Rukia's part? Certainly Hitsugaya-taichou would never kiss the likes of her! Maybe the strain from the day had finally made her sna—

"I meant that."

It wasn't necessarily what Toushiro had meant to say (stupid brain acting on its' own!) _if_ he had really meant to say anything at all. To be honest, he just wanted to fill the silence (for all he knew he could've blurted something out about unicorns, but he wasn't quite that lucky apparently). But now, instead of making the moment more bearable he shot it straight to hell—cursing his sudden left footedness the whole trip down.

Rukia blinked at his statement, simultaneously realizing both that no, she hadn't imagined it, and yes, he also had just said what she thought he said. If her face was any indication, she was thoroughly embarrassed on both accounts.

"S-sorry, I. . . Maybe I should just stop talking now."

Whether the petite shinigami agreed or not she didn't say, instead scratching at her arm slowly for the sake of having something to do besides looking at him.

Her brain was mush—literally and figuratively, thank you very much.

The silence stretched agonizingly then. Funny really, how only moments before it had been just as quiet but not quite as unproduct-

"It's getting late." Toushiro suddenly said, hiding his embarrassment behind the business-like tone and the fist he hid a nervous cough behind. "You should start heading home."

"Yeah." She agreed vigorously, standing quicker than he thought possible.

The faster she could run away to hide under a rock the better, she figured.

"I should! I'll see you la-"

"I'll walk you."

This promptly served to make Rukia clamp her mouth shut for a moment, finally filtering his statement down into the "argue against it" layer of her logic. Unfortunately for her the white haired youth anticipated this as he stood, already picking his way through the roots with his back towards her.

She opened her mouth to retort—

"Say a single thing and I'll kiss you again."

-And promptly closed it instead, turning red as a tomato and nearly forgetting to grab her sandals before following after him.

Whether he had meant it or not she would rather not test-and If it was a joke, it wasn't a particularly funny one, she thought with a frown.

"_Look on the bright side_," Sode no Shirayuki quipped after they had reached the top of the little valley, a coy smile on her lips, "_he could've been a bad kisser."_

It was then that Rukia proved there was a shade of crimson brighter than Renji's hair.

Unfortunately for Toushiro, he was too busy mauling his irrational brain and cursing his inability to play it cool to be witness to such a colossal event.


	15. But I Assure You:: My Debts Are Real II

**A/N**: D: I am soooooooo sorry. School has sucked out my soul! Either way, hope the longer chapter makes up for this. If you see anything wrong at all though, please let me know. I read it a million times and corrected and re-corrected to the point that my eyeballs hurt O_O

This chapter is dedicated to Yu, AKA "forgottentea" on deviantart, for being a wonderful supporter even though I went MIA for a while XD And to all of those who took the time to review, as well as wait patiently for my craziness.

Here's to you and your awesomeness!

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)_

* * *

**(But I Assure You) My Debts Are Real II  
**

* * *

The clock kept ticking.

Outside the scurry of daily activity continued without him—the sun was still shining, people kept moving, and Soul Society continued to sluggishly heal.

Everything sat almost exactly where it had been when he had first come in—_whenever_ that had been—untouched, undone, and probably urgent in some way or other to the many cogs of their little system.

Meanwhile the clock continued ticking.

Whether it had been three minutes as opposed to three hours, it was hard to say. Either way, judging by the look on Toushiro Hitsugaya's usually stoic face, the world might have just reached its next heat wave a tad early. Brow furrowed, his eyes seemed to be trying to burn a hole through the things stacked on his desk as if that would do something to remove the buzzing in his head. The grim line of his pursed lips didn't move—what could speaking out loud do for him now, when the one person he wanted to ask everything wasn't there?

"_This is stupid! A TOTAL waste of my time!"_ He wanted to shout at her. "_I couldn't sleep thinking about these foolish little-"_

Yes, that was it! Throw it all in her face!

"_-can't believe you can get under my skin like this. Why? What the __**hell**__ did you do to me?"_

What would she do then?

What would _he _do then?

At one point or another a hand involuntarily had to make an effort to move the stack of reports away from where the white haired youth let his elbows land, and somewhere in the back of his mind he pondered idly whether that took up a minute—or ten.

His head fell onto cradling hands, a breath laden with too much confusion and not enough sanity leaving him in a large whoosh of air as he allowed himself to fall into the hands that slid past his temple and into his hair, fingers meshing.

Meanwhile the clock kept poking incessantly at him.

"_Surely we have better things to be wasting our time on, no, Kuchiki?" _

When was it that he had stopped staring at the ceiling of his room? How the hell had the sun risen again? Had it been a minute? An hour? When was it that he had changed into his uniform and dragged himself to the office just to sit there?

"_I can't kiss you again. It won't happen so don't even try asking!"_

The night had been a blur to him.

Trying to sleep (_It was just a stupid kiss, it didn't mean anything_) turned into tossing (_did it?_), turned into wandering thoughts (_why didn't I say something to her before we got to her house?_), turned into repeated images (_she. . ._), and turned into, well . . . _trying_ again.

"_You can't make me! I won't—I won't. . . do __**that **__again."_

The images rushed into his head again and everything repeated for what seemed the millionth time that morning as he groaned in frustration.

Rukia's lips were sinfully soft—that alone should've been illegal on many a level (or so had been established while greeting the crack of dawn). And unlike the last time in some dinky little makeshift hole in a tree, Toushiro had been allowed to slowly taste her and smell the lavender coming from her skin as opposed to her passing by; to feel the smooth of her jaw line underneath his battle worn fingertips and see the many shades of violet pooled in her eyes.

There were so many shades in there- _so many_ little quirks and things that could change them in an instant and it made him want to know what those things could be—

"_Ok maybe just one last time—just this once. But don't you dare even begin thinking about it ever again, got it? I refuse getting pulled into these impulsive little troublesome whims of yours."_

He was reclined back in his chair now. The sharp of his narrowed gaze looked at the new point of view, face blank as his fingers drummed the edge of his desk impatiently.

No matter how he turned the events over in his head, he couldn't seem to fathom why finally getting a kiss from her only made things more complicated—because it just wasn't enough. Instead of satiating any suicidal interest in the petite shinigami, it seemed to have only made it grow _worse_.

That _single_ lapse in judgment hadn't been nearly sufficient and the more he reflected on it, the more questions and idle curiosities (did she use perfume? How was her hair so silky?) sprouted like weeds in his thoughts.

And if Rukia were to walk into the office right now, the captain didn't know what he would do. Part of him would want to just not even let her talk and just claim her mouth again regardless of who ever saw, because damn it he needed to know all of these things.

How exactly kissing her would lead to those answers was a trivial matter unworthy of his time.

Then again, the other part of him screamed to be reasonable and to not let his hormones take over—to be rational and just _try_ to control his thoughts. He wasn't a hormonal teenager for crying out loud. And maybe yes, it had been quite a long time since any sort of romantic interest had come into his life, but this was nothing that couldn't be dealt with in a grown up manner.

Because a mature man would acknowledge the circumstances under which she returned the kiss.

But if he followed that train of thought, guilt twisted his stomach in knots—had been doing so as he lay staring at the ceiling with the dark as his only companion. Because no matter what way he tried to look at it, he had allowed his whims to overtake his sanity at a moment when Rukia had been vulnerable—and that rankled in his mind at the same time that the curiosity about her grew. It made him wonder if she had just needed the attention or she really meant it, as well as making him reassess what had been blown off as a simple, mild interest.

Because if that kiss had meant nothing to her. . .Well, it shouldn't mean anything to him.

But that was the root of the problem: it did.

What exactly it amounted to, he didn't know, but that would have to be shoved aside until he could sort out the dark feelings that were making him brood at a time when he should be sharp and alert to the happenings of his division.

He _had_ to control this.

This. . whatever the hell it was.

Rukia had been open with something that she didn't have to. She could've kept silent, greeted him, and then left somewhere to be alone. But instead she had stayed and spoken about something that had changed her world, and again, the guilt gnawed at his insides for not having been more careful.

Eyes that should have been trained on the stack before him strayed to the empty desk near his and for a moment he almost saw her form hunched over, scribbling away furiously on a document. Catching himself staring at the empty chair, the captain scowled and turned reluctantly back to his work as he ran a frustrated hand through white hair.

What the hell had happened to him? What the hell was he _doing?_

It wasn't until a secretary meekly walked in with the usual bin of mail that he finally realized he had been muttering to himself, and that she had probably been standing at the door waiting for his usual acknowledgement for well over five minutes. And though she did have a strange look on her face, she set the bin down on the edge of his desk and bowed silently, but not before glancing back at him as if he had grown a second head.

It took him a while after her departure to realize he had thanked her and wished her a good day.

It seemed like forever, twisted in such mental knots and all, when the clock finally chimed eleven and Matsumoto came in with all the composure of a ghost. She too looked as if she hadn't slept, though when Toushiro did a double take he realized that with her it wasn't something pleasurable at all. Whether it was her lack of rambunctious attitude or the clouds hovering over her head, he instinctively braced himself, unsure how to take the silence that shrouded her.

She just stood there.

Was she even breathing?

Gods, did she find out somehow? The paranoia seeped in quicker than he could quell it. Was she being theatrical because it had been something by _his_ initiative as opposed to her "infamous matchmaking skills"? What if someone had told her?

No, of course not!_**No one**_ had been there, he was almost positive!

Then again he had been rather, uh, occupied at the moment.

Surely she hadn't. . . .

"I kissed her."

It was a statement he never thought he would admit to, let alone blurt out. It tasted strange as it rolled around his tongue, echoing in the stillness of the room as he swallowed nervously, almost hoping Rangiku would let it pass as a figment of wishful thinking.

The captain could've sworn even the furniture was holding its breath.

He wondered whether he should repeat what he had said (or just hide—this Matsumoto was too unpredictable and downright _**scary**_) even as she stood frozen before her desk, papers in hand. The blue of her eyes was glazed. If any gears were turning in her head, they certainly weren't being focused on his sudden urge to blurt out something which would have once garnered a pounce of ecstatic joy.

Toushiro was utterly dumbfounded by this side of his subordinate.

"I got dumped." She suddenly blurted as if speaking to the desk.

Toushiro opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Well. . . _fuck_. No turning back now.

The buxom blonde turned to him then, almost as if expecting something out of him and it made the youth panic. Was she going to cry? She wouldn't sink that low, would she? Surely she didn't expect a hug or something. . . right? RIGHT?

They seemed to stare at each other for a moment before the shoji doors slid open and Soi Fong walked in all business and rigidity, slapping down a report on Hitsugaya's desk (after a stiff hello) and promptly hooked her arm through Matsumoto's, pulling the papers out of her frozen hands and flinging them at the surface of her fellow captain's desk. Without so much as a warning she began to bodily drag the woman with her towards the door.

"Hitsugaya, the SWA is having a meeting soon so I'm borrowing your vice-captain." She threw over one shoulder. Hitsugaya opened his mouth as if to respond, found (once again) nothing to say and instead closed it before nodding dumbly.

"I'm not letting you be late this time. Yoruichi-sama is going to be there today and having people disrespect her presence by being late would be unforgivable." Soi Fong added with narrowed eyes, turning her attention to her companion. With a sigh more out of laziness than anything, Rangiku wiggled her arm out of Soi Fong's grasp as she opened the shoji doors with her free one.

"Okay." And then with a frown in her captain's direction, she complied and began to walk towards the door.

"It reeks of hormones in here anyways." She muttered darkly.

The scathing glare was instantaneous behind her. "MATSUMOTO!"

"Did you hear, Soi Fong? He finally kissed a girl."

Both of Soi Fong's brows rose up to her hairline but the look in gray eyes revealed her total mockery as the captain of second division made a noise of halfhearted sarcastic interest.

"SHUT UP!"

Ignoring the fuming young man, Rangiku shrugged nonchalantly and slid the doors shut behind her, but not before letting in two confused looking interns. Beside her, the captain of the second division rolled her eyes and prodded her companion further into the hall.

Dumped or not, Toushiro decided her secret stash was going to suffer a devastating loss again tonight.

* * *

This was beyond strange—all of it.

Try as she might, Rukia found it impossible to meditate with everything that was buzzing around her head. She shifted for what seemed the millionth time from her perch on a boulder and sighing in defeat, opened her eyes to the blinding sunlight, squinting to minimize the sting.

How could she concentrate on anything? Could she be blamed? How did one react to the things that had happened to her yesterday?

Back when Byakuya had revealed to her the existence of Hisana as her sister, Rukia had taken it with a grain of salt. Because, she had concluded after a few restless nights, the loss had been more of an impact on her adoptive brother than he let on. The fact that he had actually honored his word long after her loss was something he didn't have to do—but the fact that he did showed the love he had for his late wife and it revealed to Rukia that there was more to the man than she had originally given him credit for. It exposed what he could never express in words, making her ebb the flow of curiosity that flowed through her whenever she found a relic of her sister's in the house.

She wouldn't touch them—it felt wrong for her to do so.

But. . . this was beyond her being allowed to see her sister's things. Seeing the grave made it many times more real than just seeing things that could've one day belonged to her—made it more real by the presence of Byakuya behind her.

It solidified the other woman's presence in her life, like the lullaby. What little she could make out between reality and the strength of the poison, had it really been what Hisana had sounded like? That breathy, gentle, high pitched whisper?

There was a part of her that was skeptical, wondering if the deep vibrations of unrest it sent into her heart were only responding to what she wished to hear, to know. The black of her thin brow furrowed at the bitterness that crept into her mind when she realized then, that the only true fountain of knowledge of her own past came in the form of an enemy that had died by her own hand.

And there was no turning back now.

There was nothing she could do about that no matter how much she wished otherwise. It wasn't like she could turn back the clock to stretch out the time she had spent in the hollow's presence, asking it all sorts of questions her own memory had hidden away from her.

Asking Byakuya was out of the question for the moment as well. He had given her more than enough by their visit alone—he needed time to heal, contrary of whatever his stoic face said.

And then there was . . . captain Hitsugaya.

It wasn't really until after he had left her at the front gates of the mansion (after a drawn out walk in awkward silence) that she began to really look at the many different interactions she had had with him.

The warmth radiating from the jacket that was draped on her shoulders in the night—the breath that fanned across her hair when her cheek fell to the crook of his shoulder in the car; these were things that when she thought about it, were a lot more intimate than she had given them credit for because he hadn't pushed her away.

And she was well aware of his intelligence—of all the chances he had to shut her completely out.

Just as she had as well, but refused (or neglected) to do so.

Why hadn't she ever considered drawing a line? At the point where he had kissed her, maybe, in Hueco mundo, or even after that at Urahara's when she found herself healed by his hand?

Could she even have the heart to do that?

"_No_," Shirayuki answered in her mind without hesitation, "_You wouldn't_."

But he was Hitsugaya, Toushiro! This was the guy known throughout Sereitei for being as frigid as the element he represented. It was like trying to reach the moon while having your feet planted to the ground—it just wasn't possible.

"_I meant that_." His deep voice echoed in her head.

Then again. . .

He was warm, he was a soul just like her with flesh on bone—he was in the sense of their world, human. Thinking about him in that light as opposed to the prodigy of Soul Society certainly made him have more dimension in her heart (as if everything he had done thus far hadn't done that enough).

But that. . . . it scared her a bit. It was stepping into territory she wasn't sure she wanted to again. Because Renji had made the decision for her many years ago when he let her go without a fight, cruelly setting a wall between them that she knew would never be torn down—even if she had gotten over that.

And Ichigo. . .

No, that door was one she was not going to open today.

So then, she wondered in frustration, what did this make them? Because they had kissed but they were just barely friends—and whether there was anything other than physical attraction between them was hard for her to surmise. On his end it was hard to tell since she had never been one to be around him, but on her end, she had no idea where to begin.

She had kissed him back—what about starting there? The fact that she had done so could at least cement that she thought of him grudgingly a little more in the way Sode no Shirayuki had mentioned than she had thought. Granted, it wasn't like she couldn't have a crush on him, but the fact that they had kissed threw everything she thought she knew out the window.

Did he like her?

She thought of the reflection of herself in the mirror that morning and grimaced.

Could anyone like _that_?

Her face turned red as she tugged on a wayward strand of hair.

Could _anyone_ like that?

A tomboy with the upbringing of a ruffian and the vocabulary to match when she became really heated in an argument. She didn't flinch at the sight of blood, nor blush when a man took off his shirt—it was just all natural occurrence in her world, seeing as much of the district she grew up in was neglected and lacking in any sort of luxury as decent clothing.

Junrinan—that was a far cry from the dilapidated town she had called home.

And besides—why the hell would he ever turn to someone like her when he still had lieutenant Hinamori? She would get better eventually—Rukia had faith in that.

Honestly she wouldn't blame him for going to her when she finally did.

There was no place for a chance there.

"You try any harder and your face is going to stay like that." Rukia jumped in surprise, swiveling her head to the redhead who's shadow covered her even while seated.

Sighing, she shrugged. "If I try to meditate any harder my head might explode."

"Your brother wouldn't be very happy if I told him how you died."

"Yeah," she said, suppressing a smirk as she tried to imitate her sibling's stiff composure, squaring her shoulders and scrunching her nose, "it wouldn't be an honorable death for a Kuchiki."

"Quite unfitting for a lady, if I may say so." Ashido said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Rukia, wincing, uncurled herself from the lotus position.

"Hey—you're just as much of a ruffian as I am, so you can't talk." She replied, aiming a halfhearted kick in his direction.

"I lived in a forest for hundreds of years—I'm sure my ruffian ways can outdo yours, Rukia. Plus I'm not a lady."

"Oh, Rukongai can give you a run for your money." Glancing up at him, she didn't hide the smirk this time, adding, "Old _man_."

"Be nice to your elders—I'm sure your brother wouldn't appreciate you abusing his assistant."

Rukia quirked a brow. "His assistant?"

"Yeah. Right now there's no open positions for me in the sixth, so he's keeping me as his personal assistant."

Her face didn't hide the surprise at all as both brows raised to her hairline. "Nii-sama must really like you."

Ashido shrugged. "That doesn't help my case with Abarai-san."

The vice captain and him had met in Hueco Mundo, though their interaction had been close to nil. And honestly, from the first impression it seemed to Ashido like he was a decent guy. Maybe it was the fact that Ashido had shown up out of the blue and taken to being the elder Kuchiki's shadow, or the fact that he was a possible threat to his position that Abarai didn't like him? He had no idea—all he knew was that his fellow redhead had no qualms in showing how he felt.

And oh did he ever feel the nice little glares aimed at him.

"Ah." Rukia rolled her eyes. "Just take him out drinking and he'll be your best friend before you know it. I would suggest saving up a few paychecks beforehand though."

Raising a brow, Rukia nearly laughed when she saw how seriously he was considering it. Brow furrowed in thought, he shrugged, heading over to another boulder in the clearing and settling down.

"I will keep it in mind." He finally said, closing his eyes.

Tilting her head to the side, Rukia could've sworn that she had heard her brother's voice instead of Ashido's in that moment. Pegging it to the effects of being around him too much, she smiled as she slid off of the boulder and shaking her head, made her way back to the thirteenth division.

Maybe if she dealt with other things she could get her mind off of everything for a while, she told herself.

But even she knew it was lie.

* * *

Days passed somehow. The most Toushiro saw of Rukia in that time was a single shared glance between passing crowds as she followed her captain on a sunny morning, a large stack of files in her arms. She had turned and seen him, he had glanced up as Matsumoto rambled about some magazine, and the both of them stopped dead in their tracks.

Hearts stopped.

The sea of people kept moving but always between the black and white he could find her easily. Her violet eyes were trained on his own aquamarine, and for a moment Toushiro thought that if he called to her she might respond.

His mouth started to open—

But then Ukitake called her, Rukia (blushing) turned, and time began to turn again.

He lost sight of her.

Matsumoto yanked him out of the way as two shinigami passed by, saving him from running into them and reprimanding him mid-sentence in her ramble before going right back into it.

Toushiro halfheartedly muttered an apology to her as they continued.

Maybe it was in that moment, shuffling between the crowds, that the captain came to the realization that nothing would be solved with him just thinking about everything—the kiss, her emotional turmoil, his role in it all. Locking gazes would not let her know that he felt bad for what he had done (even if he might not regret doing it again-though he wouldn't push for another chance either). That no matter what, his intention had not been to kiss her during a time where she had shown him the vulnerability of her heart.

He had meant everything he said—he had intended to stay by her side for as long as she would've needed because no matter what, she was still his companion. Maybe they had just started warming up to each other even after all the years in the same vicinity, but it was enough for him to help pull her from whatever wreckage she had gotten herself into this time.

They were shinigami, they had been through the same war, they had seen death.

And they had made it.

Now, having been thrown together, he had seen different parts of her and felt it wrong to just push her away as easily as he had done to others. There was something about her that just wouldn't leave him alone no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. So instead of fighting it, he was trying a different tactic this time—he would grudgingly embrace it, little by little. Maybe then he could finally get over everything and move on.

But doing so would require him to go outside his comfort zone and close the distance (if only a tiny bit) where Hitsugaya _Toushiro_ _replaced _Hitsugaya-_taichou_ in her eyes.

And that, in turn, required him to have the guts to talk to her again-willingly.

So for the rest of the day, Toushiro made it his goal to make time to talk to her. What he hadn't realized though, was that since it was already Wednesday they were hitting their peak work days and that the loads he would receive would be impossible to go through in one night unless he had assistance. On top of that, it didn't take a genius to note Matsumoto's state of well, _not there-ness_, and so he dismissed her early without much complaint or refusal from the vice-captain.

It seemed as if no matter where he turned, remorse was a feeling he was being acquainted with quite often as of late, but he couldn't really blame anyone but himself. He hadn't really taken much thought as to who his vice-captain had been dating recently, but seeing her in such condition made him feel more than a little guilt. Maybe he shouldn't have been so wrapped up and blinded by the situation and offered her something. Like, for starters, actually listening when she spoke of her boyfriend? (Or maybe one of those fruit basket things-she seemed to have a liking for those.) Usually he'd just tune her out whenever she'd go on one of her little rambles, and in doing so he'd probably missed something important like, oh, maybe his name? That might've put into perspective why she had taken it so hard.

But the damage was done, and the little he could do was take into consideration what he could do as of that moment. After Hyourinmaru unsuccessfully tried to once again insist on the fruit basket idea, Toushiro figured sending Matsumoto home would have to do for now.

Because hugs were not really his forte and those stupid baskets weren't exactly cheap.

And as for all the work that was currently streaming in by the armful. . . .

He had an idea.

* * *

It had been a very long day for the younger of the two Kuchiki siblings.

Between paper-pushing and other trivial matters, her patience became too taxed to really care for much other than a bed to collapse on. It wasn't much of a surprise then, to see the look of shock on her face as the substitute shinigami strolled into her division calmly, looking down his nose at her with a smirk.

"What's wrong midget, you forgot how to say hello?"

The reaction was immediate, her face screwing up into a scowl as she mercilessly hit the human boy's shin, listening with satisfaction as he howled in pain.

"Idiot." She muttered. "_You_ should be the one to learn a proper greeting."

Before he could reply, Ukitake walked in and offered his greetings to the two, not even bothering to give a second glance to the young man rubbing at his shin while down on one knee.

"So are you ready, Kurosaki-san? You'll be expected over there soon." Rukia glanced between both of them, confusion bringing her brows down into a furrow as her lips thinned into a line.

"Yeah," Ichigo replied, his demeanor becoming more muted as he rose to full height, "I'm ready."

The way he said it made Rukia nervous. Her violet eyes fell on his form and she saw the worry etched in his furrowed brow as she shifted the weight from one leg to the other, suddenly anxious. "Where are you going?"

Quirking a brow, Ichigo didn't miss the second opportunity to jab at Rukia.

"Didn't Ukitake tell you?" The carrot top didn't even get a warning glare. The kick was swift and true to its' aim.

"Ukitake-_taichou._" She responded frigidly to the figure once again kneeling to nurse his leg. She ignored the string of muttered curses as Ukitake shifted, reminding them of his presence.

"I do believe I told you, Kuchiki-san." The captain muttered, face scrunching as he tried to remember, his back to them as he prepared himself some tea from the little pot on his desk. The petite shinigami turned bright red as she turned to her captain demurely, a complete change from the faces she had been making at the substitute shinigami beside her.

"I-I don't recall, sir, I'm sorry."

"That's okay." Ukitake replied, turning around once more as he blew on the steam coming from the cup in his hand. "It was just that Kurosaki-san was going to get checked by Unohana-san to see how he's doing."

Unohana. The last time he had seen her was three months ago, right after . . . everything.

Rukia swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in her throat, her face passive as she replied.

"Oh, I see."

Brown eyes studied her quietly for a moment.

"Would you like to accompany him?"

The way she saw it, Rukia knew that the mental torture of waiting would be there whether she went with Ichigo or not. But if she went, at the very least she would be there where he couldn't avoid any of her questions before his departure.

"Of course, sir."

"I don't need a midget to-OW!"

Without letting go of his ear, Rukia bowed to her captain and dragged the substitute shingami currently yelling curses in her direction out the door.

* * *

Ichigo's visit to the fourth division had taken longer than what they had anticipated, and every minute in there had been achingly long. It seemed like time had gone and abandoned Rukia as she and every other soul there watched in morbid fascination when three fourth division squad members carried in a heavily wounded shinigami.

She couldn't see much of the person except the arm that dripped blood onto the floor and a mangled uniform.

Idly, Rukia wondered how many times that had been her.

Her darkened musings were cut short as she felt a familiar reiatsu wash over her and she looked up, watching as Byakuya walked in and scanned the room silently. As soon as his eyes landed on the receptionist she all but tripped over herself, stuttering as she sweetly asked him if there was anything he needed.

Rukia watched the exchange, mildly amused.

"Has Kurosaki been seen?"

The young woman asked him to give her a minute as she began searching through the database on her computer. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to get Byakuya to focus on her flirtatious-bordering-obnoxious smouldering look, and so when she shifted to show off her small cleavage through the low fold of her shinigami robe, Rukia decided it was time to make her presence known.

"Nii-sama." Bowing deeply, Rukia looked up at her brother. "What are you doing here?"

The receptionist behind them didn't bother to hide her disappointment at losing her time with the famous noble. Nonetheless, she was painfully obvious in the appreciative once-over she gave the elder Kuchiki. Rukia threw a nasty glare at her. She may not be high-ranking, but hell could be raised nonetheless.

"Some matters came up."

Short, sweet, and to the point—all without really offering any legitimate information. That was so infuriatingly like him. Rukia wouldn't have him any other way, even if the small talk would have been a welcome distraction from her nerves. Though the dirty look from the receptionist seemed to be doing just fine at the moment.

Grasping at straws and the like she guessed.

"Ichigo is being looked at by Unohana-taichou right now. He's been in there a while though."

For a moment Byakuya's gaze lingered on his sister's, noting how thinly veiled the anxiety was in her large eyes. After all, it had been a while since the war and the knowledge of Ichigo's impending loss of all powers lingered in the back of everyone's mind until now, when it was pushed to the forefront brutally with his arrival. Granted, it was routine checkup, but Unohana hadn't called the boy in well over two months. To do so out of the blue meant she might know more than she let on.

But then again, what did they know?

Brow creased with worry, Rukia allowed the violet of her eyes to fall in fascination to the bright red droplets trailing to the deeper areas of the fourth division a few yards away.

Gods, wasn't someone going to clean that up?

"I see." The petite shinigami all but jumped at the sound of her brother's voice.

If Byakuya noticed he said nothing, instead making his way past her and towards the waiting area. The plastic chairs looked anything but comfortable, warped by the many differently shaped shinigami that had once sat there, pastel blue paint chipped in many places. For a moment Rukia thought it nearly comical then, when as only he knew how, the Kuchiki leader sat down on one.

The plastic squeaked its protest at the newly added weight.

Rukia could only look at him in confusion.

"I must speak to Unohana. Until then, I shall wait."

"Oh." For a moment she hesitated. But then finding no reason not to, Rukia skirted around the backs of the chairs to the one next to his, smoothing down the back of her uniform so she could sit without wrinkling it.

Her tiny feet were firmly on the floor, and a sigh behind them told her the receptionist had given up for the moment.

Rukia spent her time staring at the hands in her lap and then up at the passing people. Around them in other chairs sat other shinigami, some lost in their own desperation and others nodding off from the exhaustion of whatever anxiety they were trying to deal with. Violet eyes fell over them for a moment in empathy before moving on in fear she would be caught staring.

Neither Kuchiki really stirred—though the elder was the epitome of calm when compared with his sister, who fidgeted on occasions or picked at the frays of her uniform once she had grown bored of surveying her surroundings.

Byakuya didn't tell her she was foolish; he didn't try to pry her from her seat and send her back to her division.

He just. . . waited.

Rukia was eternally grateful. Maybe his reasons for being there were different, but the fact that he was there gave her strength she didn't think she could've mustered on her own. Had it not been for him, she figured, by the time Ichigo had come out she would've been a trembling mass of nerves.

Her thoughts would've continued wandering in circles had she not noticed her brother's gaze fix on someone over her head. Turning, she swallowed as Unohana began heading towards them , Ichigo walking behind her at such an angle that Rukia could not make out his expression until they had nearly reached the two waiting shinigami.

There was something so unnervingly calm and resigned about the boy that came in behind Unohana that it felt like a stone had been dropped into Rukia's stomach as she slowly rose from her chair. His eyes, usually the first thing to meet a person head on in a crowd were cast to the side, looking at the other shinigami in the room in an almost envious way.

What the _hell_ could possibly be going in his head in that moment?

Ichigo's gaze slid over to the siblings soon and he stepped forward to flick Rukia on the forehead. The petite shinigami in turn, simply frowned up at him but offered nothing in rebuke, waiting to see if he would say anything at all as she gave a courteous bow to the captain of the fourth division.

Unohana smiled and nodded her greetings at her before turning to Byakuya with inquiry in her gaze.

Maddening, these people. Why did no one say anything to her?

"Kuchiki-taichou, good morning. What brings you to my ward today?" With a final glance in her direction, Byakuya stood from his chair and he led his fellow captain off, speaking of different matters altogether and with barely a regard towards Ichigo. For a moment he and Rukia stood watching the pair before the shorter of the two turned to her orange-haired companion.

"So what did Unohana-taichou say to you?"

A flicker of sadness darkened the human boy's amber gaze for a second, but it was quickly replaced by a forced grin.

"I'm fine. My body is healing up perfectly."

He wasn't exactly lying—but he wasn't telling her the full truth either.

That much Rukia knew without trying.

"That's good." She lied, offering a soft smile of her own.

"Yeah. Considering how much damage I took, she said I was healing really fast. But it's gonna have consequences."

Flinching, Rukia sighed. "I figured as much."

"Well, I knew it was coming so it's not that big of a deal. Come on," He said flippantly, "I haven't eaten anything since I left my house."

"Ok."

They walked out together. But even with him unfazed, it seemed, by whatever had occurred, Rukia knew better. If he was physically okay and nothing else was wrong there was only one reason Ichigo could be this silent.

His reiatsu—his time with them was almost out.

* * *

Ichigo went home that day and it took all of Rukia's willpower not to ask him anything about their trip to the fourth division. He needed the time to come to accept it (if it was what she thought) especially now that it was beginning to happen in full as opposed to him losing only small "drops" so to speak through his total lack of reiatsu control. But even though she wanted to confirm her worst fears, she bit her tongue and ate lunch with him as if nothing was wrong.

And far be it from her to violently prod for such fragile information.

Ukitake requested to be kept informed on the matter the very next day, and much to the chagrin of one head of medical wards, he got his way. It didn't take him long to fish out the information from Unohana after some "gentle" prodding (and some shameless flirting with the head nurse), mulling over the news during a meeting full of (to him) redundant protocol and information he had been presented in files that morning. The whole aspect seemed a blur to him as he searched through the captains that began to file out of the meeting hall to return to their own divisions, looking for the familiar flash of pink. Once he had found it, with a quick call and a wave, he flagged down his friend.

While he waited, Ukitake nodded his acknowledgement as the captain of the fourth division passed. Her smile, he noted, was a bit tight around the corners—oh well, she would get over it eventually, right?

Soon, he had led his best friend to the side courtyard of the first division where a walkway they frequented led deeper into the area. It was there that they had created many an influential idea for their respective divisions, chatted, and where once again, they walked without much thought-it had always been a rather isolated and abandoned place after all.

The white haired captain could barely wait to tell him what he knew, the need to share urgent if only to have a sounding board on the matter.

"His powers are starting to deteriorate faster than expected. Kurosaki has whittled down himself to literal days." He said, frowning sadly as they settled by the high walls of the building they had just left.

"Calm down." Shunsui warned, grinning lazily, "your condition could act up again and who knows if Unohana-san would be happy to see you in her ward today. . ."

Ukitake, grimacing, offered a weak laugh. "You're right. Still, I can't help but think about Kurosaki-san's dilemma. To think that everything he's done for us could've led to this. . ."

They heard the scrape of another set of sandals and looked up to the third approaching captain (a strange addition as of late) who humphed his lack of care for the topic as Shunsui nodded a greeting that went mostly ignored.

"So what? Stupidity breeds consequences." Mayuri jumped in, offering the statement as if he had been there from the beginning. "Let it burn out so that he may finally live as he was supposed to from the beginning—an idiot human. Though it is a bit regrettable to let such a prime specimen go to waste. . . "

Ukitake Jyuushiro and Kyourako Shunsui shared a look before turning back to their fellow captain.

"Of course we agree that he should be left alone. Especially after what he's done for us." Ukitake began. "But to suddenly cut ties. . . I don't think Yamamoto understands how badly it would hurt Kurosaki-san."

His brown eyes once again fell to the strangely painted captain of the twelfth before him.

"His usefulness has been expended. That's all there is to it." Mayuri said, turning unexpectedly to leave. The other two watched him, one shrugging, the other concerned.

"I know Yamamoto wants to make this as clean a cut as possible for everyone. . . but still. I don't think it's right."

"Then, old friend," Shunsui shrugged, lowered his hat before pushing off of the building wall, "do something about it."

It didn't take much more convincing for Ukitake to take up arms in the matter. Taking his friend's words to heart, Jyuushiro Ukitake began to think of how to do just that as he walked back to his own division alone and in thought.

At first, he wasn't sure exactly how to go about with the delicate process. He thought maybe bringing Ichigo to Soul Society and throwing him a party was a bit much and too strenuous on everyone's schedule given the circumstances. Then he wondered if maybe sending some device, or a form of communication to the boy would help him feel better—to allow him still to keep in touch.

But would that make him feel helpless? Would it rub salt in the fresh wound? Losing his powers after all, was no small change. If anything he would feel left behind since after complete loss of his powers, he would not be able to see anything having to do with the world of the dead.

"Oh, Ukitake-taichou, there you are! I have some things that need your approval. Would you mind-"

And then it hit him.

"—signing these?"

He looked from the papers to the petite shinigami holding them.

"Ukitake-taichou?"

* * *

The secretary knocked, waiting as the white haired youth ran a tired hand over his face before finally calling her in.

"What did he say?"

Bowing, the young woman pushed up her glasses.

"Ukitake-taichou apologizes, but he cannot spare Ms. Kuchiki to assist you today."

Raising a brow, the captain wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not by the reply from his fellow captain. Though usually asking for help from him was never turned down, should it strike him as odd during that time of the week?

He sighed.

"Very well. Can he send her tomorrow?"

The secretary shook her head.

"Ms. Kuchiki will be occupied. She will be on leave for a mission soon. He said that should you require assistance, he could see if he could send someone else for you."

No. He didn't _want_ anyone else. And though he was dying to inquire about her mission, he swallowed it down.

"No it's fine. You're dismissed."

Bowing, the young woman left silently.

A mission starting soon? Hollow sightings had gone down dramatically after Aizen's defeat, so he knew that the people they had stationed there now were enough. There was no way it was a mission to the human world. Unless it was something to the caliber they had taken before—but he hadn't heard of anyone of lieutenant or captain rank pulled out to take on an assignment.

Hueco Mundo, maybe? No, they hadn't organized themselves enough to take care of their own world let alone the hell nest that was that forsaken place—Ashido was testament to that.

Something in-world then? That was the most plausible, but there was no way of knowing unless he snooped—which of _course_ he wasn't going to do.

Things between them could wait. It wasn't necessarily a life or death matter, so he could wait to talk to her until she returned, right? Rukia had plenty on her mind to be adding stresses by trying to get a hold of her.

Yeah.

He'd wait.

And maybe in that time, he could fit in some work and a little bit of a nap.

* * *

"Go to the world of the living? Why? We haven't had a hollow siting worth our attention since Ishida, Chado, and Inoue took over patrolling the area."

Ukitake looked at the young woman with a sad smile.

"I petitioned for it. I figured it would be good for you to be there for Ichigo in the following week or so, since it will be a very significant time for him."

Immediately Rukia's continence changed, her brow furrowing as she lowered her narrowed gaze to her captain's desk. The very world seemed to fall upon her frail shoulders, her figure tiny in the light of the sun from his open window. The same grim emptiness, the feeling of despair he had come to know in the children of Rukongai became evident then on her softened features.

"It's happening. . . isn't it?"

Good—he didn't need to tell her. But gods, did it ever hurt to be the one to see her off like this. He was grateful that she had spared him the delicacy of the subject through her own direct nature, but having seen to her well-being since the moment she had stepped into his division made his own lips turn into a thin pursed line.

He sighed, trying and failing to find a way to put things as easily as possible.

"He's. . . at the most he has a week." Her head snapped up and Rukia could do little but look at her captain wide-eyed. "He's been having black outs more frequently now that he's down to the last of it. You were there for him when he got his powers. I figured it would be appropriate for you to be there when. . ."

Saying it was a lot harder than he thought, but Rukia saved him from having to do so once more. Raising a hand, she cut him off.

"I understand." She finished in a tired voice, forcing herself to smile at him reassuringly. "Thank you, sir."

All he could do was nod as she bowed to him.

* * *

Ok so he kind of lied.

He only lasted one fully resolute day.

On the second day before he could think it over any more, Toushiro somehow went from firmly not asking to sort of wanting to know to _having_ to know. He reasoned it was due to his horrible little bout of self-induced insomnia as of late, but he'd be damned if he didn't deal with it head on.

He was going to get some rest tonight or someone was going to suffer tomorrow—well, besides him.

Things were not going as planned though. It was excruciatingly hard not arousing suspicion about his inquiry of Rukia's mission no matter where he turned because well, it wasn't like they had ever really been close. The plan was to talk to her before she left, but so far that would be impossible if all he knew was from Renji claiming it to be "sometime in the next two days."

Which had been accompanied by a shrug.

Idiot.

The white haired youth had tried pulling the information out of the acting third seats of thirteenth division as well, but they too seemed to know as much as her so called best friend had.

So he began walking back.

He would've kept on his trail weaving through passing shinigami had he not spotted his lieutenant speaking animatedly to someone in the crowds. She laughed at something and when her gaze strayed to the people passing by, baby blue eyes fell on her captain' s familiar tufts of white hair. Immediately she saw a chance in baiting him and didn't hesitate to make her presence known.

She figured that messing with him was as good as it was going to get in terms of cheering herself up—though this was after a few bottles had been downed. At least just enough to keep her walking a straight line back to her office, where she would've pestered the daylights out of HItsugaya and he either let her go home, or he let her go home (again).

Of course the faster way would be in the use of one adorable little Kuchiki. And though bumping into Ashido hadn't exactly been a part of the scheme, Matsumoto tended to roll with it anyways.

Especially when a chance was practically thrown in her face-what with him having insider information on the girl and all (because living under the same roof had to offer her _something _in terms of juicy information).

Besides, seeing her captain squirm had always been a surefire way to cheer herself up.

One arm rose high to wave him over as she called with no regards to how loud she was being, not noticing how much attention she had attracted to herself—err, well her chest anyways, if some of the passing bulging eyes were any indication.

For a second Toushiro seemed to be considered turning around and heading the longer way back when the crowd parted slightly and he caught sight of who she was talking to, and someone help him because the scowl was automatically darkening his features.

Ashido's face was unnervingly expressionless when their eyes met.

Until Toushiro had the taller man nearly in front of him, he hadn't noticed how far he'd even moved.

"Ashido-san was telling me Kuchiki-san is leaving on a mission tomorrow."

Toushiro tried (and probably failed) to hide his surprise at hearing the news. It broke him out of his initial hostility towards his companion, but pride helped him reign in the look of shock from before. The cerulean of his gaze rose to meet Ashido's slate grey once more as he cleared his throat to appear nonplussed.

Check and mate. Score one for the (recovering) matchmaker extraordinaire.

"That's good. We need as many shinigami active as we can."

"Her brother isn't too happy on the assignment though, is he?" Matsumoto continued nonchalantly, turning to Ashido as well to avoid smirking.

The mild amusement on the redhead's face was something it seemed, he wasn't trying to hide at all.

"He is. . . rather unnerved on the subject."

"It was something assigned by Ukitake-taichou though. No matter what he feels, he can't overstep the authority of Kuchiki-san's captain just because he doesn't approve of where she's going."

_Ask it! _Matsumoto wanted to scream, _Ask it!_

"Why," Toushiro asked, brow furrowing at the strange turn of the conversation, "where is she going?"

"To Kurosaki's house." Matusmoto said then, feigning ignorance to the way her captain's features suddenly darkened. "Ukitake-taichou won't really say what's so urgent, but word on the street is that Kurosaki visited the fourth division for the first time since. . . a while." She finished hesitantly. "I think it might have to do with that."

His mind started racing.

"How long is she going to be gone?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"About a week or so."

"That seems like a lot of time to be gone, no?"

Matsumot raised a brow. "If Ichigo's about to lose his powers like everyone thinks, then that really isn't that long at all."

This time he didn't bother to hide his shock.

"He must've been pretty active for him to lose everything so fast."

"Well, what could we expect from someone like him?"

"Yeah." Toushiro replied, brow furrowing in thought. "You're right. Still, the fool could've at least tried to show some restraint."

Rangiku shrugged.

"Well, on that happy note," Ashido suddenly interjected, looking over the captain's head and ignoring the death glare he got for it, "I must go. Kuchiki-taichou would not be pleased if he sees that I'm speaking of this so openly."

Both leaders of the tenth division followed his glance but found not a single trace of the aforementioned captain. Raising a brow, Rangiku made to ask him what he had seen before the redhead excused himself politely, slipping past them easily and following it seemed, after someone .

"I wonder who he saw that he had to leave in such a hurry."

Frowning disapprovingly, Toushiro turned to his distracted lieutenant.

"I don't know. Maybe he saw Kuchiki or something."

"Eh, true."

"Either way, I know a place where _you_ should be hurrying to." He said, daring her to try and escape with a hardened glare.

Matsumoto only whined.

* * *

Two days.

For two days Ashido had been following the young man ahead of him, watching him casually from a distance and making sure to stay hidden in the masses of shinigami passing. Had it not been for Matsumoto distracting him momentarily he wouldn't have been forced to catch up in such a rushed manner, nearly bumping into the man himself. Luckily things were avoided quite deftly when Ashido ducked into a nearby shop.

Norio Atsushi.

He was at a decent age, probably only about ten years younger than Rukia, with a sturdy frame and features smooth from the care of nobility. According to Byakuya, this target came from a stable family known for its merging of the Takenaga and Atsushi clans. He looked to be of good pedigree, acting both mature for his age and quite educated in all sorts of different subjects. His sword handling was mediocre, but that was to be expected with his lack of experience—it was only his sixth year as a shinigami. This could be dealt with.

Which left only one real problem—he was a total pushover.

He tended to be around a rowdy bunch which the proud Kuchiki elder would not approve of for sure. As if that wasn't enough of a strike against him, the very fact he seemed to lack a spine even as an eighth seat of the ninth division- certainly this threw him out as a possible candidate.

For goodness sakes, the guy's _friends_ didn't even listen to him.

Rukia certainly couldn't have a potential husband like that!

She would eat him for breakfast.

So that meant the tally was now three potential suitors down. The other two—well, they didn't even last half a day. In fact, Byakuya didn't even let Ashido finish his report after the first three sentences. Both young men had been unseated officers (strike one), drunkards (strike two), and for the finishing touch, complete flirts.

And that was after just the first day of observation.

At first, Ashido didn't question what he had been doing for the noble. Even though he had been gone for many years, removed from the heart of society, he recognized the Kuchiki name well enough to know that any association with him would lead to good things. He had never gotten the privilege of meeting any of them until Rukia arrived in Hueco Mundo, but doing so had been a great blessing that was still providing him many open doors—including being welcomed back as a hero.

Using that to his advantage, he made sure his friends' names were carried on with great honor as well. A small memorial service would be held in their name sometime in the near future, and there was even the beginnings of a discussion as to whether to try and recover the memorabilia left in the wake of their loss.

But other than that, Ashido hadn't really asked for anything from the captain of the sixth or Sereitei as a whole, for that matter. Questioning the nobleman's motives hadn't exactly been on his priority list until after the first young man's picture had been given to him and he had been asked (in complete privacy) if he would be willing to take on the task of following him not as a shinigami, but as an assistant to the Kuchiki clan.

If he refused it wasn't like he had anything to lose—but the intrigue as to what was going on kept Ashido silent and willing.

He had spoken to Rukia a fair amount since he began living under the same roof. They were small conversations, mostly trivial matters really, but it was enough for him to deduce that she knew absolutely _nothing_ about what Byakuya was planning—which put him in a tough bind.

Should he tell her?

At first he had figured she had other matters on her mind. But then as the dust of the mission had settled down and all involved fully healed, it seemed to be as if the matter didn't even _exist_ in her mind.

And now. . .

After a bit of hesitance, he pulled out the pen from his pocket (a strange device it was, but useful nonetheless) and a neatly folded picture of the young man, scrawling a clear line diagonally over it.

Rejected.

Now all he had to do was sneak the picture onto Byakuya's desk, wait until he was called in to report, and the next set of candidates was given to him.

As for Rukia, he would have to think about it for a while before he came to a decision—it was just too delicate of a matter to take lightly. Plus his head might be on the line—and goodness knows he wouldn't risk that again without a damn good reason.

* * *

It was none of his business.

It was _totally_ none of his business.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was here." The white haired youth swiveled on his heel to see Rukia bowing to him, arms cradling a bin full of miscellaneous office things.

She was _not _going to be embarrassed. She would not think about the kiss. She was _not _going to be embarrassed. Not the kiss! She was _**so **__**not **_going to be embarrassed!

"If you're looking for Ukitake-tai-"

"I was looking for you."

Violet eyes widened considerably for a moment as she blushed.

_Too late_, Rukia thought, _I'm embarrassed_.

"What. . ." She began hesitantly, looking away, "what can I do for you, Hitsugaya-san?"

Well. . . shit. She could start by telling him how the hell he had gotten there in the first place. This hadn't been part of the plan—in fact there had _been_ no plan. He had just sort of derailed mid-errand after leaving Matsumoto complaining in the office. Truth be told, he couldn't even remember what errand had prompted him out to begin with. Thoughts of what he wanted to do and what was going to happen were drowning out any chance of logical thought or productive activity.

Scrutinizing the shelves beside him as if he had never known they existed before, the prodigy cleared his throat nervously.

Well, no turning back now. The chance was here, he might as well take it.

"I just wanted to-"

"Shiro-chan!" Both turned to the entering captain who lit up at the sight of Toushiro. The prodigy couldn't help but frown. "What brings you to our division? Did you change your mind and require someone? Sorry, I just couldn't spare Ku-"

"No, it's fine, Ukitake." Sparing a quick glance at Rukia, he couldn't tell if she had caught what her captain was about to say—her expression was infuriatingly neutral. "I just came to take care of something."

There was no way she could doubt that what he was saying was more meant as a message to her. The deep cerulean of his gaze locked onto hers for a long moment and then turned back to his fellow white haired captain before he could see any sort of emotion pass through her features.

"Ok. Let me know if you need anything. You know we're always happy to help."

"Yeah. Well, I'm going to head back."

"Here, before you go." Before he could protest, Ukitake pulled a handful of candy from a hidden pocket in his haori, taking Toushiro's hand and placing them in his grasp. Toushiro, too tired from his failed attempt to speak to Rukia, simply gave a deadpanned look lost on the cheery captain of the thirteenth.

Smiling obliviously, Ukitake shuffled past him and deeper into his office.

"Kuchiki-san, would you see him to the main door?"

Her eyes met his for a moment before she called her consent, setting down the bin of things on the nearest chair. Turning back, Rukia shouldered awkwardly past him. Her footsteps slowed to put her just beyond him as they entered the cramped main hallway.

"So," she began, not looking back, "what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Looking down, he noted her hand tugging lightly at her uniform.

Before he could think his hand shot out and grabbed her arm. He could feel the tensing of her body as Rukia froze, unable to hide her surprise.

He stopped with her mid hall, their eyes locked together for a second.

_There's no chance here. I can't get my hopes up. He has Hinamori-fukutaichou, _Rukia tried to remind herself. _W__hy would he ever want me?_

"Hitsugaya-san. . .?" His fingers, though loosening, did not release their hold completely.

"There's no need to be nervous. I'm not . . . here to say anything bad."

They both looked up as an intern cleared her throat, offering a muttered apology as she awkwardly stepped between them, forcing Toushiro to let go of Rukia.

"So then what is it?"

"This isn't the place to talk. Can you spare me a moment sometime?"

"I'm being sent on a mission to-"

"-the living world. I know."

Her brows nearly hit her hair line. "How. . . ?"

"Need to know basis." A strange look, but otherwise Rukia didn't offer a remark.

"So? It won't be much time."

"And you can't just tell me here?"

"I'm sure your brother couldn't _possibly_ all of a sudden stop by and-"

"Understood." She replied, paling at the thought. Her fingers once again began fiddling with a loose thread in her uniform as she began walking. Toushiro followed, arms crossing as he sighed through his nose.

"Tomorrow at dawn—that's when I leave." She whispered to him. Reaching the main lobby, the petite shinigami nodded to the receptionist before heading over to the main doors and sliding them open for the captain.

Quirking a brow, she turned to him in a business-like manner.

"Shall I pencil you into the schedule, sir?"

Regarding her for a moment, cerulean eyes locked onto hers and his head tilted slightly to one side. Finally, sighing, he nodded.

"Please do."

She smiled. "Yes, sir."

He began stepping out but then hesitated, surprising her again when he took her hand and cupped it in his, placing something into her palm.

"And take care of these while you're at it." He whispered hurriedly, glancing back to make sure Ukitake had not seen him. Raising a brow, Rukia couldn't hide the tug of her lips into a smile again.

"Consider it done."

As he walked away, he heard the wrapper of the first chocolate crinkling in protest.


	16. (But I Assure You) My Debts Are Real III

**A/N: **HOLY TARDIS OF GALLIFREY, SHE IS ALIVE! Sorta kinda.

Maybe.

Dedicated to everyone and anyone who actually still stuck around by nothing short of a miracle. Any questions or anything, or wanna chat (or just generally harass me about my horrible horrible ways), drop me a message! Also, no beta, so please let me know if anything is amiss. Not as long as I would've liked, but I didn't wanna sit on this any longer. Especially now with NaNoWriMo.

HAPPY NANOWRIMO!

* * *

**Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix**

_(My heart opens itself to your voice)_

* * *

**(But I Assure You) My Debts Are Real III**

* * *

Oh Kami, he was here.

He was _here!_

Honestly, Rukia didn't expect him to come—in fact, she had convinced herself somehow on the way to the main gates that it had all been in her imagination. She had gotten so good at it that it seemed like she had just been having breakfast with Ashido and her brother and then in the blink of an eye, she had gotten to the area and things could go on as normal.

It would've been amazingly convincing in fact, had it not been for the sound of sandals scraping against the worn streets of Sereitei.

Her throat went dry at the sound.

The sun was up, the shadows of dawn fading across the figure that made its way over. Looking towards it, her heart stopped and Rukia stood frozen to the spot, unable even, to swallow as she recognized the mop of white hair.

What was he going to say?

Her heart was racing.

What the _hell _was he going to say?

It was the question that had kept her up all night, tossing and turning and unable to close her eyes for more than a handful of minutes at a time. She had raced through so many possibilities that she had confused herself into a dazed stupor from which she was shaken only by the sound of Ashido's voice at her door in the morning.

And now she was here.

Teal eyes fell slowly on hers as the tenth division captain stopped. She, in turn, gave him a perfunctory bow of welcome. The smile that accompanied was hesitant, but enough to make the captain hesitate and nod a good morning to her as well.

If he noted her anxiety, or the tired look about her, Toushiro didn't say anything.

"Hitsugaya-san." She began, hands clasped together in front of her to keep from fidgeting. Her face fell into a neutrality she painstakingly constructed around frayed nerves. Her voice, what little she could force out, seemed strained even to her ears. "What is it you needed to see me for?"

For a moment silence fell between them as he stopped a safe distance away from her. The light of his sharp gaze was locked completely on her and there was a strange intensity that Rukia could feel weighing down on her, sending a shiver down her spine. More than anything, the petite shinigami felt, the ice was felt through the pierce of his gaze alone. White brow furrowed and posture rigid, the aura about him did little to ease her even the tiniest of bits.

His mouth seemed to slightly open as if to say something before he closed it into a thin line.

Rukia couldn't help it—her eyes followed the movement of his lips and she found herself back in thoughts of their kiss. Looking away, she hoped he didn't see the furious blush on her face as she tried in vain to get rid of the images (and sensations) passing through her mind.

"I. . ."

She didn't turn at the sound of his voice.

At first the captain swallowed his words back thickly, noting her reaction. This whole talking and communication bit wasn't his thing—that was all Matsumoto for a reason. He had been called many things before, among them blunt and downright obstinate. But standing there now, Toushiro hoped for some strange reason that she wouldn't mark his actions (the words said) off under either of those categories—he had put more thought into this one moment than he usually would've to be shrugged off so easily.

But whether such colossal effort was due to his pride as someone of honorable character or simply because of that weird _whatever_ it was she did to him, he wasn't sure.

Either way—he needed to say it. In the end that was what finally forced the words out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Rukia. I acted out of line by kissing you when all you needed was someone to speak to."

The captain was too determined to finish to note the slight widening of violet eyes.

"I meant no offense—I really did want to help you in any way that I could that day. I just. . ."

The steam that he had built up suddenly died. What was he supposed to say now? He had done what he had come for and now he was floundering in the silence that followed. He couldn't finish the thought he had started either—that was something even he wasn't sure of at this point. He just what? Wanted to try it? Even he was aware there was something more to it than that but it couldn't continue.

Rukia seemed too shocked to say anything for a moment, frozen even as she tried to mull over it all.

_I saw this coming. I knew this was coming. It was all just a mistake._

"It was just an impulse, then." Her voice sounded strange when she finally chose to speak. One of the hands that had been clasped in front of her now reached up and readjusted her small pack, staying on the strap. She seemed to almost visibly shrink against it, using it as a lifeline.

The white haired youth seemed to weight something in his mind before he answered with a nod.

"Yes."

Her face was emotionless for a moment. If possible, even terrifyingly so. Toushiro tried in vain to read through it, studying the way her brows seemed to draw in for a moment as if she was internally fighting herself on something before violet eyes rose to his and it all suddenly died.

Whatever it was, her mind was made. The small smile that took over her face seemed to send a stab of frigidness through him, a sense of finality of some sort washing over him. It gave him goosebumps to see how fast she could switch things on and off like that—impenetrably and gracefully in a way that would make her brother proud.

"I see." Her eyes glittered like diamonds—hard and untouchable. "Well, thank you for your kind words, Hitsugaya-taichou. I appreciate everything you've done for me regardless of what happened."

A knee-jerk reaction to stop her took over him for a second and he fought it as he watched her swivel on a heel after offering him a final, curt goodbye. Her grip on Sode no Shirayuki was tight, as was the thin line of his grimly pressed lips.

She didn't bow to him respectfully—he didn't reprimand her.

"Thank you for seeing me off, sir."

He stood there, confused as he watched her turn away from him and open the gate. The breeze from the difference in pressures blasted past her, raising with it the hems of her sleeves to look like black wings. He watched, the overwhelming sense of dread driving his steps as he suddenly ran after her. If he could just clarify things, maybe-

"Rukia, wait!"

She didn't turn at his call.

It was too late, swallowed by the sound of the gates closing.

As his hand dropped to his side, somewhere in the back of his mind the captain wondered why it felt as if he had just made a big mistake.

_Maybe_, Hyourinmaru's voice echoed in his mind, _Because you did. _

* * *

Rukia ran.

Her feet hardly touched the ground, breaths ragged as she took the long path towards the opening of the living world. The musty, dank atmosphere that usually made her feel suffocated was barely noted, left behind in blurs of misshapen walls and jutting pieces of what once might've been living creatures that had strayed into the void.

_I'm a fool._

The words echoed in her head as she continued, barely noting how the light ahead was steadily growing stronger. Her mind was left behind with the captain, mixing with a surge of emotions she couldn't control all of a sudden.

Why was she angry? He owed her nothing! There shouldn't _be _anything to be angry about! He had been the perfect gentleman about everything and here she was, reading _too much _into it and expecting who knows what, and gods, she couldn't cry!

She **wouldn't** cry!

And besides, why did she feel so hurt?

He hadn't promised her anything. Never had he said that there were more feelings than that of a captain to a subordina—friend! A _friend_. Never had there been a moment where she could safely say there was caring in a way he would never show to anyone else.

And that's what probably stung the worse.

Sure, she couldn't argue with that, but his eyes had practically told a completely different story—his posture, his voice—it all seemed so genuine and unique only to her presence that maybe she had just allowed herself to be blinded-

_Idiot._

The gates opened and suddenly she was there, the river sparkling in the morning sun in the distance, grass soft under her sandal-clad feet as the light fell in rays that pierced the darkness closing behind her. There was a light breeze that ruffled her hair as she turned and was met with a muted smile from Orihime a few yards away. The two young men behind her simply nodded their welcome, all of them in regular clothes.

Sunday—she figured, trying to get her bearings on the difference in times. It was like spinning in place and then suddenly being jerked to a complete stop, eyes squinted in the light and mind dazed at the change of pace.

All the anger, frustration and hurt didn't fade—it would be there, confusingly so, probably hidden somewhere in the back of her mind as was her custom with such things. But she was a fighter—always had been. And right now, there was someone who needed her.

"How is he?" She asked, searching for some telltale sign of bad news. Her voice was thick, laced with concern, but also a finer sheen of her earlier confusion and frustration.

Let them interpret that as they would.

"He's okay for now. He faints more often and for longer amounts of time, but he's been eating fine—we've made sure of that." Ishida answered as they began to walk.

"What does Urahara say? Are there any other symptoms we should be expecting?"

"Just the fainting spells getting worse as his body tries to fight it. Nothing permanent though."

They began to walk, Ishida leading them as he filled in the petite shinigami on everything that had happened since Ichigo's last visit to the fourth division.

"You were right." The Quincy said, pushing up his glasses. "By the time we realized how much power he had really lost, he'd almost gotten himself killed fighting a Hollow."

Rukia's mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Ichigo would hear from her, she'd make sure of it.

Stubborn fool.

"Is he awake?"

"He was when we left." Orihime piped in as they reached the gate of the Kurosaki household. They all silently looked up at the house, a melancholy silence shrouding them as Rukia swallowed and pushed the front gate open.

Once inside, to Rukia's mild surprise, it was Yoruichi who greeted them in front of his bedroom door. Her tail was moving back and forth across the carpet as she eyed them all in turn, offering only a simple nod as welcome.

The twins and their father had gone out earlier that day and had yet to return, the cat explained briefly. Though the siblings knew very little about what was going on, their father thought it best to simply let Ichigo deal with things in privacy. In the meantime, it had been Urahara's crew that had taken over the task of keeping him stable throughout the whole ordeal.

"He fainted again." Yoruichi stated simply.

Or at least as stable as they could, anyways.

"Can I see him?"

The black cat nodded before calling out to Ururu, who opened the door slightly at the beckon. Her wide, watery eyes slid from one person to another before going down to the cat.

"Let Kuchiki into the room and come help Orihime with some things downstairs." She nodded before fully opening the door, letting Rukia in and slipping out like a ghost. If the others had any qualms with the petite shinigami being alone with Ichigo, they voiced nothing and instead followed the two females downstairs.

Rukia didn't hear the lock click shut.

Her eyes were glued to the prone figure on the bed as the reality of the situation hit her all at once.

If she hadn't known any better, she would've thought the young man was simply sleeping. His breathing was peaceful but his brow, as usual, was scrunched with worries even as his eyes moved rapidly behind closed lids. He didn't have the telltale sign of having been asleep for long, bright orange hair spiking in every direction and clothes unwrinkled.

What could he possibly be dreaming?

His hand twitched and violet eyes followed the movement, easily enough almost placing the large meat-cleaver of a sword into the gap his curled fingers and palm made in her mind's eye. There, between the callouses and scars.

Why hadn't he told her?

There was a surge of anger, bitter and acidic in her thoughts, burning through her heart and limbs as she stood there before him, eyes glittering dangerously. With tears, with resentment, she wasn't even sure all of a sudden as the upwelling of emotion threatened to spill over.

"_I meant no offense—I really did want to help you in any way that I could that day. I just. . ."_

Did she really look so weak? Was she really such a pushover that everyone saw her as a damsel in distress even when she wasn't dying? What did she have to do to prove to everyone that she didn't need to be rescued constantly?

"Fool." She grit out indignantly. "I can't believe you wanted to hide something so big from me. And yeah," She continued, glaring at his unconscious body, "I knew. I'm not stupid."

It hurt—everything did.

"Did you think I would be better off not knowing, and then coming to find out one day that you can't see me anymore? That you wouldn't be able to hear when I scream that you're an idiot and a stupidhead and that you. . ."

Swallowing thickly, Rukia jerked her gaze away from the bed, eyes landing on the desk instead. Her arms wrapped around her middle and she stayed like that for what seemed like forever, fighting the sudden lump in her throat with fervent stubbornness alone.

What would he say if he could hear?

"You were too thick to give us a chance—and I was too scared."

The room felt cold. There was a void there, the lack of the familiar suffocating feel of his reiatsu barely a flickering, waning light in her mind.

"_Idiot! Tone your reiatsu down! You're going to kill me!"_

She wanted to ask him so many questions, so many things that had always crossed her mind but never her lips, things that maybe would have made a difference if she hadn't made that speech in Hueco Mundo about separating and having faith in those around you, about wanting to have faith in herself when no one else did but them, and how she owed everything to him.

How she loved him.

She would never know now—this was it. The last thread holding them together would be gone, and everything would fall back into what it used to be.

No more staying in his closet, trying new human foods, going to school.

Chatting with his sisters or walking along the lake would be only a daydream. She wouldn't be able to smack him upside the head when he was an idiot or yell at him to move over when he took up practically the whole couch. No more training sessions or shoving his clothes out of the closet to make more room for herself.

All of it—gone.

Rukia opened her mouth to speak then and found she couldn't. At first she thought it was mostly because it was stupid to be talking to someone while they were unconscious, but when she thought about it, _really_ thought about it, she realized that it was useless.

No matter what she said, no matter how many times she screamed, cried, or pleaded, nothing would come of it.

He wouldn't answer.

"You're an idiot, Ichigo." She whispered, finally looking back up at him through a tear-filled gaze. "An idiot."

In the end, that was what made the first tear fall.

* * *

"So you just. . . let her go?"

She was being infuriating, he was confused, and frankly, everything was getting nowhere. Throwing down the paper he had been trying to read, Toushiro sighed heavily before running a hand through thick white locks.

"Would you defy orders?" He rebuked bitterly.

Surprised at actually being acknowledged, his vice-captain sat up a little straighter at her desk, noting his grimace.

"You didn't tell her anything?"

Aquamarine orbs flashed in annoyance as they turned from the writing to her.

"I told her what I needed to tell her, that was all." Matsumoto scrunched her brow in question.

"Which was . . .?"

"None of your concern."

"You screwed up, didn't you." She said, not sure whether to show concern or the amusement she felt. Instead she wisely stayed silent, bright blue eyes capturing the baited breathe, the locked jaw of her captain.

"It's none of your business, Matsumoto." Her captain warned in a slightly louder voice. The room was still the same temperature though, so she figured taking her chances a little longer wouldn't hurt too much.

"What did you do?"

"Matsumoto, nothing, ok? Shut up and go back to your-"

"You really messed up, didn't you?" Her eyes nearly bugged out as she leaned forward in her chair. If the desks hadn't been between them, Toushiro knew that she would've been towering over him by now to make him talk.

"I didn't mess up!"

"Did you tell her she was fat or something?"

"No!"

"You told her she was ugly?!" She practically yelled.

"NO!"

The temperature was beginning to drop.

"Then how the hell did you-"

His hands slammed down on the desk as he stood, clearly enraged by her prodding.

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! I JUST TOLD HER THAT I WAS SORRY FOR KISSING HER!"

And before she could pull anything else out of him, Toushiro stormed out of the office.

* * *

Four days.

It had been four days since Ichigo had fallen unconscious. He seemed to move back and forth between levels of sleep, sometimes twitching as if he was dreaming, and at other times lying as still as if he was just a human-sized doll.

Only his breathing would give him away.

Through it all, Rukia had remained by his side. While the others came and went, only she pretty much stayed in the room. Orihime had brought her several manga, and the petite shinigami had found it rather calming to try and take the books as inspiration for her own art. Currently, the floor was littered with her different colored markers, pencils, and books.

Absentmindedly, she took the orange marker and began to color the rabbit's wild, spiky hair.

"That looks nothing like me."

She stiffened at the voice, marker bleeding into the paper for a moment before she noticed, frowned, and calmly picked the marker off of the paper to cap it. She could feel Ichigo's eyes on her as she began to neatly stack her things on the floor. And if she knew him half as well as she knew she did, she could practically see the eyebrow raised in her direction.

"The hell's wrong with you, midg-"

"IDIOT!" The marker was out of her hand before he could dodge, leaving the young man with a perfect imprint of it on his forehead. The yell of indignation didn't quite come out sounding like he was yelling at her at all, but instead turned into a cry of pain when she flash stepped up to him and mercilessly grabbed his ear.

"Did you think I didn't know, you bastard? Did you think I was stupid enough not to _notice?_" At the last word she tugged harder, ignorant of the string of curses that might've under other circumstances impressed her.

"You jerk." It wasn't that her grip had loosened on his ear. What stopped Ichigo's tirade and ultimately made his eyes rise softly to her lowered gaze was the waver in her angered voice. "Just because you save the world, it doesn't make you need your friends any less."

Her fingers fell from his ear. Scooping up the marker that she had chucked at him, Rukia dropped it near her other things and stormed out the door, the substitute shinigami's eyes leaving her small form only when the door of his room slammed shut behind her.

* * *

He went through the rest of his day after seeing Rukia off, though to be honest, he remembered nothing of it past the moment she turned her back on him. The week was halfway over and yet he could not, for the life of him, find it in him to think of anything else.

"You have to talk to her again."

A scowl.

"Don't you have work to do?" Was the annoyed reply from the white haired youth as he allowed his head to fall back against the trunk of the tree. Arms, crossed, he didn't even make an effort to hide his discontented frown.

Matsumoto smirked. "I'm doing my work right now."

"You're bothering me." Was the deadpan reply.

"I'm _helping_ you."

"I asked for no such thing."

"You told me about it without me having to pull it out of you. That was a cry for help."

"That was me venting stupidly." Toushiro grunted, eyes still closed and head leaned back against the tree. "I don't need your help."

There was silence for a bit, and the white haired captain dreamed that, if only for a second, his subordinate had decided to finally leave. The tension had even started leaving his shoulders-

"You want to know where you made a mistake?"

-and it was back.

"You said you were sorry."

Opening teal eyes for the first time since their conversation had started, he finally turned to acknowledge the busty blonde standing at the edge of tangled roots. Maybe if he stayed here she would be deterred by the work it would require to navigate them to try and reach him.

"I don't see how it's a mistake. I was being sincere. It wasn't my intention to do it."

He didn't budge from his seat as his vice-captain huffed and shook her head at him.

"You don't get it, do you? You _insulted_ her!" Brow furrowing as he frowned, Toushiro didn't try to hide the '_you're crazy_' look.

"How the hell do you get from what I said that I insulted her?" Was the suddenly interested retort as he warily got up from his seat, flabbergasted by his lieutenant's reasoning.

Was this woman _mad_?

"Ok, ok, look—hear me out." She replied, trying to keep her captain from completely shutting her out before she could get her point through. "Let's say you told her about something personal, yes?"

She looked at him expectantly, ignoring the deadpan look. "Yes?" She insisted.

A sigh.

"Yes." He tried to goad her into getting on with her point.

"Okay, so now let's say while you're talking, one thing leads to another, the mood music plays, the moon is perfectly set-"

"Matsumoto! Point! NOW!"

"She kisses you."

"Matsumoto this is preposterous, Rukia would never-"

"Can you humor me for _one _second here and just go along with it?" Was the annoyed reply.

He went silent for a moment, eyes set on her own expectantly.

"Fine. Okay, she kisses me." He replied, trying not to dwell on the idea or the fact that he wouldn't mind such an action.

"So you go home with that feeling and you start questioning what those butterflies in your stomach are. You're _excited _about it." His look was still skeptical as she continued. "But then she sees you a few days later and tells you, you know what? I take it back, I didn't mean it that way."

"Okay."

Her brows shot up at his nonchalant reply.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," he replied evenly, "okay."

Well. . . what the hell?

"So you'd just. . . let it go? Just like that?"

He shrugged as he stepped over some roots, picking his way back to where she stood.

"Yeah. What's the use of dwelling on something if it's not mutual?"

Mutual? Now there was a word that created certain tangents in Matsumoto's mind. What if _he _didn't think things were mutual as in him not having feelings for her? Did he have his spine so straight he couldn't allow himself to turn?

She needed to take a different angle on this or she wasn't going to make her captain understand anytime soon, and it might just clarify whether or not he really did consciously admit anything.

"So you're telling me that it doesn't bother you at all that you kissed her, that you're doing all these things for her, and that she's running off to spend a week with Kurosaki?"

Well _that _got his attention quick, if the sudden tensing of his frame was any indication. She decided to test her luck and push on, seeing as the only reply to her statement was a silence filled with a subtle strain.

"You're saying that it doesn't bother you in the slightest that she could be falling into his arms right now after you were the one that went in after her in Hueco Mundo? Honestly? And let's not forget how you took care of her over there."

There's a silence that made Matsumoto wonder if she had pushed too far. She noted the tautness there, the struggle in her captain's hardened gaze and furrowed brow.

"It was an order." He finally retorted, arms crossed over his chest as he looked out at the lake.

The blonde sighed, mirroring her captain as she leaned her hip on the tree, arms crossed underneath her ample chest.

"You can't hide it, you know. It shows."

"I don't know what-"

"Oh, stop with the denials! You think I didn't catch you staring at her when we dressed her up? Think I wasn't aware of your jacket over her shoulders when you guys got in the cab or how all of a sudden you just can't seem to bump into her enough?"

The white haired captain reflexively opened his mouth to retort but found the words too weak, the excuses too flimsy, to hold up against the woman beside him.

She knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, and lying was fruitless in her company. But the knee-jerk reaction to refuse the knowledge wasn't going down without a fight of its own.

"It's nothing," Was what came out of his mouth instead, "I just. . . find her more intelligent than she lets on."

"It's called a crush. It's perfectly-"

"It is _not_ a-"

"Just because Hinamori-chan didn't work out in the end, doesn't mean you can't let yourself learn to open up again to someone, you know."

Cerulean eyes finally found hers then, and Rangiku knew she had pushed too far as his mouth closed with an audible click and his brows drew down.

"Leave her out of this." He snarled before pushing off the tree and storming away from her.

* * *

They fought.

A lot.

Rukia had three days left and of those, they fought like there was no tomorrow for two. She faulted him for stupid things, he called her stupid in general, and no middle ground was found until well after midnight on the second night through a hissed/whispered argument over her tossing out more of his clothes from the closet because she needed the space to sleep.

The petite shinigami was sitting with her feet dangling off of the edge of her makeshift bed, violet eyes silently following the griping young man as he set an alarm for the next morning. She didn't miss when he swooned slightly—didn't realize she's holding her breath—until he turned to see if she's noticed.

"I'm fine." He says gruffly.

"Yeah," She replied as she started to swing her legs again, "I know."

They each turned to do their own thing then, making themselves busy before the elephant in the room is addressed until finally they were both lying in bed and it seemed that the inevitable couldn't be pushed away anymore.

So what did they do?

Ichigo was in bed, staring at the ceiling. Rukia said nothing, instead pulling herself further into the closet and lying down without, for once, sliding the closet door shut.

Both of them quietly shifted in the darkness until Rukia was facing the closet doors, violet eyes wide in the dark and mind caught imagining the human lying mere feet away as she curled into herself. The mop of orange bent against the pillow that yielded to the shape of his cheek was there in her imagination just like the very first time she had jumped through his window and landed softly, fleeting and light upon his bed. The brown of his eyes, even as she closed her own violet ones, was there and probably staring straight at the thin obstruction between them as she had been. Her small fingers curled, imagining him facing her in that single moment of desperate illusion, twining their fingers together.

His hand would envelope hers, hiding her tiny fingers.

"I'm so-"

"Don't." Rukia's felt herself spit out sharply. Her voice (because it was hers that had responded right?), wrapped painfully tight around the single word in an attempt to hold back the sudden lump in her throat—when it had formed and how her ears had caught what her heart was trying to shut out sent her already muddled emotions into further turmoil, mixing within and probably reflected in Sode no Shirayuki's domain through the falling of quiet snow.

Snow for miles—as far as the eye could see behind closed eyes and prickling her skin with the chill, achingly slow, flake by flake until it crept under her skin and deep into her bones.

"I'm not sorry for anything." She somehow felt herself say into the darkness. "And the moment you are is the moment I'll start hating you."

They both remained quiet and Rukia wondered if Ichigo had managed to fall asleep, though knowing him-

"Goodnight, Rukia."

She hesitated for a moment, choking on the fact that this is the last time she'll say good night to him like this. Slowly, the petite shinigami gathers herself again and finally answers into the dark.

"Good night, Ichigo."

Neither of them slept that night.


End file.
